


Thorns and Needles

by Itsquiettime



Category: Septipler, jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom, youtube - Fandom
Genre: AU, M/M, flower shop, tattoo parlor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-04-09 12:44:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 31,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4349285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itsquiettime/pseuds/Itsquiettime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark owns Dandys, a small but popular flower shop in an unassuming college town.  What happens when he meets the energetic Irishman who opened the tattoo parlor across the street?</p><p>(ON HIATUS ATM I'M SO SORRY THIS WILL RETURN I PROMISE BUT NOT RIGHT NOW I'M SO SO SORRY ILY)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Time and Nostalgia

The insanity of the Christmas season began as November came to an end, when the trees were nearly entirely stripped of their leaves and the air was brisk and cool. Every year, Mark put an enormous amount of effort into infesting his shop with Christmas cheer. Lights drooped from the ceiling, ribbon and tinsel wrapped around the furniture, and tiny figurines littered the counter tops. He simply adored the atmosphere of the chilled season, it filled his heart with what little he knew of home and hope.

It was in those twinkling moments he missed the Old Man who had given him the shop. Decorating Dandy's Flowers and Arrangements on a brisk fall evening was one of the last moments the two had shared and he felt a twist in his heart at doing things alone.

Mark could almost still hear him as he whistled Christmas tunes and scattered decorations over the floor and hung them on the walls.  He would point and laugh at Mark's struggles to hoist up the massive Christmas tree on his own, the damn thing was taller than Mark himself and was a massive pain in the ass to string lights through and hang ornaments on, but it was the glowing focal point of the shop during that time, so he didnt exactly mind.  Besides, no matter how much Mark bitched about it, he adored the thing.

The Old Man would only ever supervise *cough*watchandcomplain*cough cough* as Mark did the decorations for the entire upper part building himself, not to mention some of the smaller things that the Old Man simply couldn’t bring his body to do. He couldn't count the times he nearly fell to his death trying to get everything perfectly situated to the geezer's taste. The bastard would use the I'm-too-old-and-fragile-for-this-shit excuse and wave a hand, conducting Mark from his perch on the counter top by the register.  He would insist that Mark was "a young and healthy gentleman who could handle such impossibilities."

Mark ran his fingers through his hair and sighed.  He was supposed to start on the wedding arrangements for a frazzled bride hours ago, but he was feeling entirely too nostalgic and lazy to bother with work.  He was sure the decision would come back and bite him in the ass when it took up some of his precious sleeping time, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Miss Miller, his lovely bride, had demanded real, fresh flowers in all of her arrangements for both the ceremony and the reception. Which was, in Mark's opinion, insanely expensive and pointless.  It required a large chunk of his time and effort when she could just as easily use the fake flowers he originally proposed. She had been repulsed by the suggestion and even threatened to take her business elsewhere if he wouldn't give her the real flowers she had her heart set on. After Mark assured her that everything would be taken care of, she stormed out in a rampage to find her next victim. He watched her stalk away and sighed in defeat, resigning himself to his fate of waiting on imported flowers and scrambling to arrange them properly at the very last minute.

In order to finish everything by 10am Saturday morning, he would have to start immediately and lock himself away in the workroom for a few days.  He would be getting very little food or sleep while he was slaving away, but it was worth it to know that the hard work and dedication he put into every arrangement surrounded a couple in beauty on one of the best days of their lives. A job well done and a happy bride/groom made his heart soar.

Mark had a belief that when the shop was thriving and his customers were happy, the Old Man lived on and he wasn't completely alone.

But he was a fool for the thought.  He knew that the Old Man was never going to come back. He was never going to walk through the glass door again and say "Mark!! Good morning! It's been awhile hasn't it? How are my darling flowers coming along?"

His heart sank to his knees every time the temporary illusion was shattered all over again.

In an attempt to clear his cluttered mind, he pressed his forehead against the storefront window and peered outside, watching as the minutes of his life ticked away.

As it was the first Monday in January, it was still too cool outside for wandering around.  Not a soul was out in the streets, giving the small town a serene look as the sun began to sink into the horizon. Rays of orange, red, yellow, and purple painted the town square with warmth and peace and Mark's mind slowed into a peaceful thrum.

Even the building directly across the street from his, which was falling into disrepair, was colored beautifully by the dying daylight.

Mark missed the antique record shop that had been in that old building.  It had been the Old Man's favorite place and he dropped by at least once a week to speak to the employees and ask if they had gotten anything new and interesting in since his last visit, which they always did, specifically for him.

He and the Old Man had explored almost every shop in town, from mom and pop places like their own little shop to the bigger chain businesses that were more concentrated near the interstate on the outskirts of town.  By far, his favorite place was the adorable family-run bakery next door. Just as the old man made frequent trips to the record shop, he would defect and make a trip to Lil Biscuits Bakery every Friday for whatever treat happened to be the Favorite of the Week and a cup of coffee.

The family who ran Lil Biscuits, the Smiths, had come to expect his weekly visit and Mindy, the oldest of three children-and who was expected to graduate high-school within the year-would already have his order prepared. He would pay and have a seat at a tiny table in the back to just enjoy the peaceful environment and the smell of fresh baked goods.

The father, Hubert, liked to try new and interesting recipes and he loved to rope Mark into testing all kinds of strange things. If Mark deemed something tasty enough, Hubert would allow him to take a box over to his own shop to offer free samples to his customers. When the inevitable question of where the delicious treats came from popped up, Mark would happily point them in the direction of Lil Biscuits.

In return for their kindness, Mark would bring them some of his newest arrangements, especially those with rare or seasonal flowers for them to display on their front counter.

In another attempt to clear his nostalgic mind, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, wiping his mental slate clean before pushing away from the glass and going about cleaning and closing his shop.

He was choosing to close earlier than usual due to how few people had come in and he wanted to get started on the arrangements for Miss Miller. He had been procrastinating all day and he wanted to get everything done early in the event that there were complications.  There were always complications.

After counting out the register and making sure his information was sealed tight in the safe in his office, he began to carry all of the materials upstairs to the workroom where there wouldn't be anything to distract his mind.

On his final trip downstairs to get the last of the baskets, he happened to glance outside one last time and was pleasantly surprised to find the lights in the building across the street on and two cars parked out front.  One vehicle he knew to belong the owner of the establishment, but the other he didn't recognize. Someone new must be interested in renting out or maybe even buying the old place, which made Mark excited to see a new face in a town of everyone knowing everyone else. He wouldn't be the only outsider anymore.

He couldn't see anyone from his vantage point which means they must have been touring the tiny apartment above the shop. There would be no catching a glimpse of the mysterious stranger.

He smiled and shut off the lights as he picked up the last of his work and headed upstairs to lose himself in his job.

It wasn't for another few weeks that he would notice the old building a second time and catch his first glimpse of the stranger.

On the 20th of every month, he took it upon himself to visit the elderly in Sunny Pines Retirement Home, taking them flowers and talking with each resident for a bit. 

He picked up the job a few years back. The Old Man had asked for help loading a storage room full of fresh flowers into the van one morning and ever since he found out what the Old Man did with those flowers, he continued the tradition. Even after he was gone.

Most of the nurses simply ignored him and continued with their daily duties as Mark went about delivering tiny gifts. Some nurses were willing to help him deliver to some of the bedridden patients who couldn't accept the gifts in person and weren't allowed visitors.

Most of them absolutely adored Mark and his bubbly personality.  They thought of him as kind and respectful and looked forward to talking to him once a month. The feeling was mutual as some of them were the most inspirational people he ever had the pleasure of meeting. He found the ones with fading tattoos or odd piercings or scars or disfigurations the most interesting to speak to.  They would tilt their heads back and laugh and encourage him to live and love and not regret a second of his young life.

They painted their lives for him in vivid colors and he would let them as some of them had no one else who would listen to their tales. Their children plopped them in a home like Sunny Pines and seemingly forget their existence entirely.  The thought of so many beautiful stories being lost in the twist of time and neglect made him mourn for the past loves these stories were about.

But not every resident loved Mark.

Mark had a firm belief that there was no point in hiding himself to impress other people, even the elderly. No, he had learned that lesson already. So, when someone asked him if he had a nice girl waiting for him to come home, he politely told them no, but if he did have someone waiting for him, it most likely would not be a female.

Most of them would smile and simply move on with the conversation, but some....

There were those few who couldn't get past thinking of him as a freak and would slam the door in his face, spit slurs at him, and demand that he stay as far from their rooms as possible and without the Old Man, he was pathetically defenseless when it came to that sort of thing.

A fun fact about Mark: he hated loud noises and most forms of confrontation, which was partly the reason he chose to live in such an uneventful town and kept to his own most of the time.  Though it was just an old man or woman flinging curses and shouts his way, the harsh intent of the tone and the volume of their screeches would make him jump or cower on instinct. Sometimes they even made him fly into a panic.

It was then that he could hear that one word, spoken in several different familiar voices and ripping through his psyche.

"Freak."

He hated himself. He hated that he couldn't let go of something that happened so long ago and it would smother him for the rest of his life.

But then, he heard the voice of the Old Man rising above the hate.

"You are beloved, my son."

So, regardless of the slurs and the hatred they shoved in his face, Mark still placed a flower on the tables beside their doors for them to bring in at a later time if they should choose. He knew that they probably threw them away as soon as possible, but he felt it only right to at least give them the option.  

After a full day of chatting with the old and helping out the nurses with little side jobs, he drove back to Dandy's and parked the delivery van in the back. He stepped up to unlock the back door which lead to the break area when he remembered that his most recent delivery from that morning had been blocking off the coffee machine and in his desperation for a caffeine fix, he pushed the boxes out of his way and slid them in front of the door.

Grunting in irritation at his past self, he spun to face the ally between his shop and Lil Biscuits and slipped into the darkness.

As he walked through the narrow space between the two buildings, he noticed that the lights in the building across the street were on again and the same unknown car was parked out front, but the owner’s vehicle did not accompany it.

A smile spread across his face at the cheerful "SOLD" sign that overlapped the "FOR-SALE OR RENT" sign that had been in the front window for far too long.

As he rounded the corner and stood in front of his own shop door, he could make out slim shoulders and greying hair through the window in the back and he itched to stroll over and introduce himself to what was obviously a handsome yet older man.

He took a step forward but then faltered and decided not to bother the new owner as they were obviously in the midst of battle with dust bunnies and probably wouldn't want to be disrupted mid-counterattack. So Mark turned back to his own shop and tried to ignore his curiosity.

After being sure that all of the day's reports were done properly, he felt much too tired to actually work on anything else for the night. He sighed and decided to just bite the bullet and come in early the next morning to open up.

He took a step outside, breathing a deep breath of the crisp night air and felt his body relax. It was a quiet and peaceful night but far too cold for his taste.  He couldn't take the chill for very long, so he started for his car, his head filled with warm showers and comfy bed sheets.  As he was opening his car door and sliding inside, he noticed the building across the street yet again, but in contrast to a few hours previous, it stood dark and quiet.  


	2. Why Florists Hate Valentine's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was Thursday the 12th of February and Valentines day was on Saturday. He may have been panicking a little bit of a lot and the dumpster behind the shop seemed like a fantastic place to hide because holy mother of fuck, he was going to die.

Mark hadn't slept in nearly two days. The only thing keeping him running was the coffee and his supply of that ran out about six hours ago.  He was starting to feel drowsy from the lack of caffeine and anything that even resembled rest. Logically, he knew he could always curl up on the couch and catch a few hours of sleep before getting back into trying to complete the mountain of work that sat before him, but he also knew himself well enough to know that if he fell asleep, nothing would be able to wake him up in time to finish anything before it had to be delivered, so he hunkered down and filled his blood with as much caffeine as possible in order for him to finish his jobs.

His most recent customers were demanding twelve full-fledged centerpieces for some extensive graduation party for their youngest daughter and they had ordered all of them only two days before the event. Did they not understand that it took precious time and patience to put that shit together? And they wanted him to do twelve? In two days?

He normally would never have agreed to something so outrageous because, contrary to what he wanted to believe, he did actually need sleep. But Mark was a kind soul, he accepted the offer and the client accepted the sort of outrageous service fee for demanding such a massive order be done in such a short time period.

Unfortunately, he wasn't going to get a dime if he kept dozing off.

In his state of dull drowsiness, he kept pricking his fingertips on the ridiculously sharp rose thorns while trying to remove them from the stems and smearing the speckles of blood still on his hands on the pale lily petals. While it's annoying, he was honestly too tired to give too much of a shit, and that was a sign that perhaps it’s best if he stepped away for a while. Maybe he would make a quick trip to that twenty-four hour shop two blocks away to pick up some coffee before his brain decided to quit and drop him where he stood?

Mark let out a sigh and stretched his arms high above his head.  As he arched his back he heard a sharp crack and felt his spine pop back into alignment, relieving him of the temporary pain of sitting crunched over for so long. He had been slumped over the latest centerpiece for the better part of an hour and his back had started to feel like it was about to break in half.

He never understood why, but he was generally someone to work sitting in the floor instead of utilizing the super comfy chair he bought for himself for the specific purpose of saving his back from curling out of place. Perhaps it was because he learned to do all of this while sitting in the floor and listening to the Old Man teach him or maybe he got a better vantage point while on the ground? Either way, he was going to grow cripple in his old age if he continued, but he supposed that if he lived to be old and crusty, he would have more immediate issues on his hands than a failing back, so he just went about his business as he pleased and ignored the aches when they came around.

With a grunt and a heave, he pushed himself off the floor and stretched his legs out in an attempt to get his bones refitted into their proper places and to loosen his screaming muscles so that he could properly move again.

He decided that it would be a good idea to leave everything as it was and simply slip back into a steady work rhythm when he returned with his elixir of life. Or coffee. He shrugged, whatever the kids called it these days.

His workroom was an enormous, open room with a large window on the opposite wall of the door and a couch just underneath it. There was a comfy looking office chair and a desk to the left of the couch and to the right were rows upon rows of shelves housing ribbon, decorations, trinkets, and flowers which were all opened and scattered everywhere in his haste to finish the arrangements. The open center of the room matched the shelves in chaos as dead petals and discarded stems were strewn out everywhere in what was an attempt to organize himself. There was only one area with a clear, clean circle in the center of the mess where Mark's butt had been planted for quite some time.

He stepped over the wreckage to the office chair and pulled the jacket that was slung around the back over his stained t shirt and jeans. He tried to tame his hair and but gave up and slipped a beanie on but several tendrils of unmanageable floof still stuck out at random.

He decided that he really didn’t care about his appearance in that moment and with a defeated sigh and bags under his eyes, he stepped out of the room and into his office to retrieve his wallet and keys that he threw on his desk quite a while ago.

He didn't use his office that much, he didn’t feel that it was his office to begin with.  It held too many memories of its previous owner, and he couldn't consider it to belong to anyone but the Old Man. Though he left him the place, Mark felt like a child who was left to care for a store until the adult came back to take over again.

He grabbed his cell and wallet off of the desk and checked to see if he had any notifications, not that he expected to. After assuring himself that no one needed anything from him, he stuffed his phone in his back pocket with one hand and pushed his glasses back up his nose with the other.

He clamored down the stairs and as he weaved his way around the shop, he noticed a light coming from outside his shop doors. It was faint, but still far too bright to be a streetlamp or the soft glow of the stars.

He pushed open the doors to find a happy surprise waiting for him. Across the street, he could see that the new stranger, whose car he had noticed to be parked outside a few times during the horribly busy week, was there and working diligently.

Or not.

Mark stood outside his shop and locked the door behind him before squinting to get a better view of the new person, whose intention was probably to be working. The guy left the door to the back room open and he could just barely make out a figure slumped over onto a table, obviously unconscious. He looked as if he was too tired to continue for the night and just crashed where he was.

He couldn't clearly see his features from where he stood on the pavement on the other side of the deserted street, but he could see that he was wearing jeans, a long sleeved shirt, and Mark hadn’t imagined the gray hair that the man sported the first time he saw him.

He decided that as soon as he returned with his coffee, he would hop over and ask the poor exhausted guy if he wanted some. Maybe he could actually make a friend for the first time in a very long while.

Excited at the prospect, Mark walked in the direction of the store with more energy than he had previously.

He was still dragging a bit, even in all his excitement at meeting someone new, he had been awake for longer than he should to be a fully functioning human, and when he did fall sleep in the past two days it was on the old leather couch in the workroom. His only source of food recently were the crappy frozen dinners he stuffed in the break room freezer at the beginning of the week in preparation of the busy season. He hadn’t eaten many of them and to be honest, he was a tired, hungry mess and he should really do something with himself.

Deciding it was not the time to sort himself out, he snatched up a container of coffee and a couple bottles of water and rounded back to the front of the store to check out.

The guy working the register looked as if he was about to beat his head against the counter in crazed boredom and if it were any time other than one in the morning, Mark would have made pleasant conversation.  Unfortunately for the kid, he wasn't energetic enough to do so and the only interaction between the two of them consisted of him telling Mark the outrageous amount that he had to pay for a simple can of fucking coffee and getting a grumbling, grumpy response from the florist.

Mark smiled politely at the poor bastard as he called for him to have a nice night and to stay safe before he slipped back out into the night.

As he rounded the corner to approach his shop again, he noticed a change in the building across the street.  The lights were off and the car that was sitting out front was gone.

His shoulders slumped and he thought that maybe he should have gone over to try to speak to the guy _before_ his little adventure.

*

Over the following two weeks, the building across the street saw more action than before the record shop closed. Mark couldn’t help but wonder why the hell he hasn’t seen the shop owner when he looked to be nearly comatose in exhaustion just a few weeks ago?

Maybe it was some sort of weird hippie shop and the new guy was a vampire who only came out at night and would burst into flames in the sunlight?

He shook his head, he had too active of an imagination.

A week ago, the movers arrived to set up all of the furniture and when he had a moment to spare, he watched as people took in weird but gorgeous paintings and intricate statues. Whoever made the things being brought in had a skewed view of reality and was amazingly talented enough to transfer that view into physical forms.

It frustrated Mark to no end that during every incident involving the new place in the past week- when Mark almost got covered in paint due to walking by at the wrong moment, when the moving van got the wrong address and tried to give him weird furniture, or when the guys putting down the new flooring flooded the bakery on his Friday lunch day and he didn’t get his weekly treat- he never once laid eyes on this new guy. A flash of gray hair here, a glint of a piercing there, but all in all, not one single time did he see a new face.

Some of his more regular customers, like sweet Mrs. Clover who came in solely to get fertilizer for her cactus, were asking him about the strange new mystery man and Mark had to confess that though his shop is directly across the street, he never saw hide nor hair of anyone he could assume to be the owner.  

Mark had been extremely busy and he didn't have the time to pester the poor guy while he was moving in and arranging whatever it was he was building over there. He should let him settle in and become familiar with the peaceful little town before bombarding him with invasive questions and small town curiosity.

He was up to his eyebrows in work, thanks to Valentines Day being around the corner, and he wanted to keep it that way. 

His flashbacks got really intense during both the Christmas season and Valentines Day.  When the things that triggered the memories were literally spread across every available surface, he tried to hide from his demons by burying himself in work and flowers.  Mark wasn't a person to want to be alone for holidays and it was in these two events that he felt at his loneliest.  His heart ached for someone to simply hold on to.

He didn't leave the shop much during these times, even to go home. He preferred to eat whatever happened to be in the fridge in the break room and slept fitfully on the couch of his workroom. He would even spend Sundays, the only day the shop was closed, in his workroom or in his office, surrounded by the sweet, sickening smell of too many flowers at once and with hands tainted with the colors of smeared petals.

It was while he was locked away in his shop that he noticed work was finally completed on the place across the street.

Needing a break from a particularly colorful bouquet he was having issues with, he walked over to the window in his workroom and looked out over the town.  His eyes caught the sight of a sign on the door of the shop reading ‘Open’ in looping neon green letters. He couldn’t make out anything inside except for the elusive shadow of the owner.  He was dying to catch a glimpse of him and speak to whoever bought the building and fixed it up.

Too bad there was no way in hell he was going out there.

He went back to working and waited for the right time to cross the busy street and press his nose against the store window.

That time came three days later, at eleven-thirty that night when he was hungry enough to eat his own arm and there was absolutely nothing left in the fridge. As he was walking back to the shop from the grocery store, he noticed the lights were off in the building across the street and the glowing ‘Open’ sign was black and lifeless. He hadn’t noticed how dark the building was when he left, mainly because he was looking at the ground and trying not to pay attention to his surroundings.

On the window to the right of the front door was a large sign with a massive green eye with blue retinas and a tail forming the words "The Septic Tank"

What the HELL was The Septic Tank?

He trotted toward the shop after dropping the bags of food at his door and mushed his face against the glass to get a good look into what was obviously going to be a new kind of shop for the tiny town.

The front of the shop looked to be a waiting area of some sort with a desk pushed up against the window to the back, blocking off the door, but the door leading to the second floor was left open with an arrow pointing up the stairs. To the left of the little waiting area was a really long table that housed several magazines and binders of some sort, the walls were covered in paintings and little doodles. Little notes and signs were posted in front of the desk in the corner but he couldn’t really make out what any of them said in the darkness.

That’s when realization hit him: could it be….a tattoo parlor?

FUCK, how had he not noticed it before? The art? The huge professional chairs that were hauled upstairs that Mark had convinced himself were vampire torture devices? The weird way the local college kids flocked to the place?

Okay, great. That was great, but what the fuck was it doing in such a small town?

Mark could guess that it was cheaper and everything, that was probably why the old man himself bought the building across the street, but a tattoo parlor would probably not do well in a town with nothing but old people and colle-

Mark wanted to smack himself, of course he would get a flock of attention from the younger generation. He’d get most of his business from the young, rebellious college freshman who felt they had something to prove to the world.

Mark took a step back and turned to his own shop, satisfied with the information that he gathered.

As he crossed the almost silent street again, he wondered if he would get to meet the man who owned it sometime soon.  The man with the grey hair and penchant for eluding Mark at every turn. 

Not that Mark looked for him. He had gotten a glimpse of the store hours while he was inappropriately smashed against the window and he had to say, places like that kept to their own time and didn't really fit into a set schedule, but the owner put one up anyway. The hours of 1:00p.m. until 10:00p.m. Monday-Friday and 1:00 to -:-- on Saturday was probably as close to a schedule as anyone would get.

Underneath the store hours sign was a poster with a happy little eye waving his tail around and a phone number with a little note that said to please make an appointment and to call at any time.

Mark signed and unlocked his door, bringing in the bags he left outside when he went to investigate.   He hoped that both his path and the path of weird septic tattoo guy would cross very soon.

*

He had never in his life regretted the decision to start work at Dandys, but sometimes, it could be a real pain in the ass.

It was Thursday, the 12th of February, and Valentines Day was on Saturday.  He may have been panicking a little bit of a lot and the dumpster behind the shop seemed like a fantastic place to hide because holy mother of fuck, he was going to die.

He had so many arrangements going on at the same time in his workroom that he was forced to move some of them over into the office and a good amount of them were to be delivered on the oh so important day of love.

It was six in the morning, and he really could use some sleep, but he had to get almost all of the arrangements done by the next day and he hadn't even started on a few of them. 

Maybe the Old Man had known what he was doing after all when he hired Mark on for practically free help.

After retrieving some of his own flowers from the shop floor, he was about to spin and sprint upstairs and either start crying, flower arranging, or a flailing combination of both when he caught a glimpse of the building across the street, or "The Septic Tank" as he now referred to it as.

The guy had put up posters at the college and grocery store to promote himself and his new location and young and old were scrambling to get a bit of ink from this apparently talented guy.

His younger customers, who during the week were generally welcoming and excited about the addition to the town square, had been there and were raving about the customer service of the "adorably handsome artist," and that was all Mark had heard about the shiny new establishment.  According to rumor, it was doing surprisingly well for a new place in a secluded town.

He still hadn't gotten a glimpse of the mystery newcomer and hasn't heard that much about him, but to be honest, he hadn't left the shop in a few days. He kept a few changes of clothes in his office along with soap and shampoo in the shower, so he just slept on the couch when he couldn't move anymore and scarfed a meal down and showered when he wasn't buried in ribbon and ornaments and flowers.

Realizing that he really should be working, Mark pushed the guy out of his head and sprinted upstairs, wading back into the flood of soft petals and prickling thorns. He picked up some fresh oriental lilies and squinted, tilting his head in confusion.

Why the hell did he have these again?

*

Mark sprawled starfish style in the middle of his workroom in the midst of empty flower boxes, shredded ribbon, and discarded petals. It was one in the morning and after the day he had, he just wanted to lie there and die peacefully.

He couldn't say the day went off without a hitch, but he could safely say that he had gotten all of his deliveries out, his arrangements for Tuesday done, and all of his customers were reasonably happy with his work, even when something didn't go as planned.

He sighed and took his glasses off to rub at his tired eyes.  He hasn't slept properly in nearly a week, and he still had to get up and clean the place before he went home and rested. He was going to sleep like the dead until Monday.

He put his glasses back on and rolled up off of the floor with a loud grunt.  Groaning, he began to pick up the shattered remains of what was once his workroom. 

While dragging a garbage bag and throwing away any crap that couldn't be tossed in the compost pile or recycled, he came across an unopened box.

He went through a brief moment of blind panic in which his heart almost exploded before he realized that he hadn’t forgotten anyone, it was just an extra box of Night Blooming Cereus for a girl who cancelled her order after Mark already received the flowers. 

They were fake of course, it was insanely hard to keep those particular flowers alive in the climate he lived in and he simply didn't have the resources to keep them alive and blooming.

The poor girl intended to give them to her girlfriend as she asked her to marry her, but what a surprise to find her would-be-fiancé in bed with a man, which was a situation Mark didn't even want to think about getting into. She then called him, sobbing and telling Mark to burn them before hanging up in his face which was quite rude to be honest, but he could understand the pain.

He could understand the heartbreak of loving someone with every heartbeat and suddenly finding that someone not to be trustworthy of something as important as a heart.

But he didn't know what to do with the flowers.  They weren't exactly the kind of thing people were going to go for, no matter how great of a salesman he was. They were a bit odd but insanely beautiful and he places the full box on the couch near where his coat rested and continued to clean, leaving the decision for his brain to make later when it was more awake.

After meticulously cleaning and making sure everything was in its proper place, he heads over to the couch to get his Jacket and keys, encountering the box of flowers he set aside earlier. Mark really  _really_  didn't want to throw them away, but he didn't know what to d-

An idea popped in his head as soon as he picked up the box, spurring him into immediate action before he lost the inspiration and adrenaline.

He didn't want to put them into a vase because if he left something breakable outside over the weekend, he was sure that by the time it was found, it would be broken into bits, so he made a more practical decision of tying the gorgeous things in a simple ribbon.  He was far too tired to put a lot of effort into something someone might not appreciate and he even left the tendrils of excess forest green hanging down below the stems in a graceful silk waterfall.

After throwing the trash away and grabbing his jacket and keys, he made his way back to his office to get a scrap of paper and an envelope to leave a little note.

_Hello,_

_We haven’t met properly yet and I apologize for that.  My name is Mark and I own Dandy's (the flower shop across the street) and I’m sorry for not introducing myself sooner, but you've been a bit elusive, I'm painfully shy, and you just so happen to open on the week of the year that my shop is at its busiest._

_It's nice to finally meet you! Even if it's not face to face._

_~Mark_

Satisfied with the simple, cheesy note, he folded the tiny letter neatly and stuffed it into an envelope, scribbling "To the owner of this fine establishment" across the front.

He secured it to one of the pieces of hanging ribbon before heading out of his office, tripping down the stairs, and slipping out the door. He locked the door behind him and sprinted across the street, skidding to a halt at the door to The Septic Tank.

He stooped to secure the bouquet to the door handle then stood back to inspect his work.  

Happy with his welcoming present, he turned back to his car to get home and get some well-deserved sleep. With dirty clothes, sweaty hair, and a hungry tum tums, he flopped down on his bed and passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow. He wouldn’t wake up for quite some time, and he was absolutely fine with that.


	3. First Impressions are everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So I’ll see ya then?” Mark went to step past him to get to his door and whoa did Jack smell good. Like Honey and campfires and coffee. Simply Edible.

Mark’s first thought when he cracked his eyes open was that he had to be the most disgusting individual on the planet.  


While trying to ignore the fact that he smelled like he just crawled out of the ground and it felt like something had died horribly in his mouth, he checked his phone with bleary eyes and tried to gather his drowsy thoughts.

He blinked a few times at his too bright phone screen while his brain tried to register that it was three thirty on Monday morning and he really shouldn't be awake.  The previous week had thrown his sleeping schedule out of balance, not that it ever had any balance to begin with, and his body needed the recuperation after him pushing it so far. 

He slid out of bed and slumped to the floor in a tangle of limbs and blanket. It was far too early for his legs to work properly, and he was still too groggy to get up and do anything with himself just yet, so he just decided to lay there, feet still on the bed and arms flung above his head.

A year previous, he began following the Old Man's advice in closing the shop for two days after most main holidays, no matter what day of the week they happened to fall on.  He had the day off, but he knew once his mind and body finally synced up, he would be filled with energy from such a long period of rest. 

Technically, he wasn't obligated to do anything, but as much as he wanted to stare up at the ceiling and contemplate his existence, he actually had to move soon or he would fall back asleep on the floor. Besides, he was hungry, his apartment needed to be cleaned, and he needed a shower pretty badly.

But first to brush his teeth because sweet Jesus  _fuck._

After untangling himself, he thoroughly brushed and rinsed his mouth out then padded to the kitchen to fetch some water.  He reached up for a glass in the cabinet, but his stomach reminded him that it had probably been too long since he had anything in it and the tummy gods demanded a sacrifice immediately.

He shook his head at himself.  He knew there would be nothing in the fridge, yet he opened the door and peered in at the sour carton of milk and half empty bottle of ketchup anyway.

As a quick substitute, he grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl to appease his stomach and decided that he would drop by Bob's diner after he cleaned the house. It had been a while since he chatted with Bob anyway. The man was probably worried about him as he knew how busy Mark could get around this time of year.

He glanced around and groaned at the substantial level of dust that coated every surface of his apartment and sauntered dejectedly over to his cleaning supply closet. It would be a long day.

*

It took him hours, almost all of Monday in fact, but his apartment was completely spotless.  His clothes were washed, put away, and everything down to his video game collection had been dusted and put back into its proper place. He even took the time to sweep the floor and vacuum his carpet, which he made a mental note to do more often.

He was sweaty and gross and tired, but he was insanely proud of himself.

Next on the list of Mark's Monday chores was to get some food in his still complaining stomach. He hadn't eaten anything but an apple since Saturday morning and he was surprised that he could still hold himself upright. 

He grabbed a set of clean clothes straight out of the dryer and jumped in the shower, he felt like the sweat had dried onto his skin and he needed to scrub his body with sandpaper.

He gazed into the bathroom mirror and though he couldn't see the features of his face very well without his glasses, he didn't feel the need to shave his scruff off, so he just rubbed a towel and a brush through his hair before throwing his clothes and glasses on. He dropped the dirty clothes and towel in his laundry basket on his way through his bedroom.

He peeked into the mirror in the hallway one last time before deciding that he honest to God did not give a flying fuck about his appearance at the moment.

He grabbed his wallet and keys before slipping out of his sparkling clean apartment and into the crisp February evening.

It had just begun to grow dark as Mark stepped out of his front door and he could just make out the stars beginning to glow in the mix of purple and blue that was smeared across the sky. It was late enough on a weekday for the townspeople to be home, so he didn't encounter many people save for the random college kid as he made his trek down to appease his appetite. 

He could call Bob a friend. Not an extremely close friend, but someone he could go to in a time of need and Mark was grateful for his boundless acceptance of strange behavior. 

Bob owned the small diner down the street from the grocery store and he served some of the best food Mark had ever had the pleasure of putting in his mouth. Mandy, Bob's wife, was one of the sweetest women he had come to know and he was happy to have some example of a normal, happy couple walking around.

In the same sense, he could call the man who owned the local bar a friend too.

Puns was a local place that the Old Man had introduced him to quite a while ago and though Mark didn't drink, he went on little trips to escort the Old Man home because the geezer liked to have too much to drink and he wanted to be sure he got some safely. While on these weird adventures, Mark struck up a decent friendship with the bartender and owner of the place.

Apparently, the Old Man had known the guy's father who had passed the establishment down to his son as he was getting quite old and wasn't able to physically care for the place anymore. 

Wade did a fantastic job of keeping everything running smoothly.  It was a clean, well-stocked, and friendly place where some of the mellow townsfolk and college kids loitered around and played pool. Wade often spoke to Mark about anything and everything when he would occasionally drop by on his way home from a particularly stressful day of work.

Having the choice between the two, Mark decided that he would head over to Bob's for the amazing food this time around and head over to Puns when he was feeling froggy. Right now, he was more focused on food than social activity.

Mark peeked through the glass door to find no one else in the diner, so he just strolled in and took a seat at the table in the back near the kitchen, smiling and waving at Mandy as he came in.

As he was getting comfortable in his seat, Mandy came up to his table and placed his usual order of coke down in front of him.

"You'll be having the usual then, Mark?" she asked.

"No, no, I want something different this time."

She rolled her eyes and glared at him. "Mark, we go through this every time. Your usual then?"

He pulled a pouting face, "No. Seriously this time, I want something different."

She dropped down in the seat opposite him and rested her chin in her hand, waiting while Mark looked over the menu a few more times. Unfortunately for his ego, nothing other than his usual burger was looking appetizing at the moment.

He peeked over the top of his menu like a kindergartner and looked at Mandy. She simply smiled at him and turned her head to yell into the kitchen, "Mark's here!"

He heard a voice come from the mesh of clanging pots and pans "I know, I saw him come in. His usual right?"

A blush crawled up the back of Mark's neck as Mandy giggled and answered with an affirmative.

She turned back to Mark, "It'll be out in a minute." Taking the menu from him, she bounced away to continue cleaning behind the counter.

Mark was doodling a little on a napkin out of boredom when Bob himself came out of the kitchen and placed a plate of food directly in front of him. Good god did it smell absolutely delicious.

Unsurprisingly, Bob slunk down into the seat Mandy had previously occupied and smiled at Mark in greeting. It wasn't uncommon for the two of them, if Mark came in late enough and there was no one to be seen, Bob would engage Mark in casual, comfortable conversation and tell him about the ins and outs of what's happening in town. Bob was pleasant to listen to, easy to be friends with, and Mark found him to be extremely intelligent. Mark didn't mind listening to his stories and took his advice from time to time.

Bob was one of the first people he had met upon moving into town. Out of kindness, even though they were complete strangers at the time, he had given Mark food to eat and shelter from the rain. Not that he needed it for long before the Old Man found him.  He trusted Bob, he just had a tendency to gossip like a woman in her eighties.

Mark half listened while Bob went on about his usual updates of the random customers who came through. Nothing special, nothing spectacular, until a particular piece of information snagged his ears:

"He looks young, despite the grey hair, but I've only seen him from afar when we stopped for a snack at Lil Biscuits the other day.  The kids that come in tell me he's a phenomenal artist, whether it be with a needle or a paintbrush.  Apparently watching him work is a sight to see.  A lot of the younger girls are falling all over themselves for him, but he doesn’t seem to notice. I'll update you though, I'm sure he'll come in at some point. Everyone does."

He must be talking about the new guy, the one who planted a tattoo parlor across the street from his flower shop.  At least he now knows that he's Mark's age, contradictory to his original assumption that he was older, judging by the hair.

Bob slipped back into his usual drabble and the two sat talking for close to 45 minutes. The sun had finally slipped below the Earth and the lesser, more insignificant stars guided mark away from the diner and back to his cozy, clean home.

He was close to passing out from the exhaustion of a long day, but still took the time to slow his walk and gaze up at the inconceivable number of twinkling lights that danced above.

Half way home, Mark couldn't help but let his mind drift to what the new guy could possibly be like. He should've asked Bob if he had gotten a name, but he was too busy with a mouth full of food to think about it.

Walking back through his front door, he took a deep breath.  The smell of home and cleaning supplies wrapped around him in welcome.

For the second time in a row, his head hit the freshly washed pillow and he was snoring within seconds.

*

No.

Okay? Just? Can no today?

His bed was warm, comfy, smelled nice, and he was lazy enough to not want to move an inch from the nest he had created in his sleep.

He glared at his alarm clock menacingly before slamming a hand down on the button to shut it the fuck off.

Time to rise and shine.

He pulled his lethargic body out of bed and began to pull some random clothes on before grabbing his shoes.

He watched his own feet as he shuffled along the sidewalk.  

He had started to take the healthier option of walking home as opposed to driving.  At one time, he didn’t have much of a choice and walked down that specific path so much he was a bit surprised that his feet hadn't worn his footsteps in the cracked concrete over the years.

By chance, he looked over at the building across the street from his shop and was delighted to see the bouquet that he placed on the door handle was gone.

The thought brightened his dull mood considerably and he found himself walking to work with a bit more of a bounce in his stride.

Imagine his surprise when he came to his shop to find a rather large envelope, about the size of his torso, taped up to the glass door.

He spotted a small adorable stamp on the bottom left corner of the envelope and he leaned closer, squinting to see it properly. It read "The Septic Tank" in looping, cursive writing and Mark's head tilted in confusion. Was this a flyer that the new neighbor wanted him to put up in his shop or something?

Carefully as to not rip it, he removed the envelope from his door and stepped inside his shop, package in hand, and locked the door behind him.

Heading upstairs to investigate the new mystery seemed to be the best option.  Curious as to what it could be, he made his way up the stairs and through the double doors to his office, not bothering to turn any lights on except for his desk lamp.

He slid into his office chair and spun around a few times just to feel like a child again.

As he was carefully lifting the package to pull out what was inside, a tiny envelope slipped out and landed in his lap with a flutter.

The letter was addressed to him, personally, not his shop, and that took Mark by surprise for a moment, but he picks it up and tears it open to see what this guy had to say to him.

_Hello to you too!_

_My name is Sean, but you can call me Jack (most people do) and I own The Septic Tank. I've seen you across the way from time to time, but I've honestly been too shy to introduce myself. The flowers hanging on my door were beautiful, and I have to say they made my day. Thank you so much for the warm welcome!! Maybe you will appreciate the little doodle I did of the flowers you gave me?_

_Have an amazing day, Mark!_

_~Jack_

Mark's heart may have been beating a little harder than it should, but he chalked it up to the fact that he hadn't had any contact with another human that he actually initiated in a while. Jack seemed to be a nice guy and was pleased with Mark's small, spur of the moment gift.

Excited, he bounced in his seat as he opened the package a bit more, carefully removing what was inside.

Beautiful was the only word Mark's brain came up with on such short notice.

It was a painting of the flowers Mark had tied on the handle of the door in full, vibrant color and Mark’s head kind of swirled at the amount of time and effort that must have gone into making something so stunning. He felt a bit sad that he had barely put a thought into the flowers but Jack had obviously worked very hard and put a tiny piece of himself into the drawing.

He had always adored what people could create. Sure, he could do things such as arrange stuff in a manner that was aesthetically pleasing, but Jack could do what Mark considered to be a rare and far more valuable form of art: he could take something as vast and infinite as a blank piece of paper or a napkin at a greasy diner and turn it into something of his own design.

The rumors were not false, this guy was truly talented in what he did.  Mark offhandedly wondered if the tattoos Jack did looked anything like his art.

His phone went off, startling him. He gently placed the art down on his desk as to not ruin it and picked up his phone, noting that it was the timer telling him that he was late opening the shop.

Oh,  _shit_

He flew out of his chair, scrambling downstairs and over to the door, unlocking it in a rush. He was late again, if he were there the Old Man would have had his ass.

*

It was seven o'clock on a Saturday morning, Mark had been through a long week of work, and he was stressing like a teenager over what some random guy that he didn't even know was gonna say about him giving him flowers. Again.

Cursing his overactive mind, he steeled himself and crouched before the door of Jack's shop to yet again wrap a bright, almost scarlet ribbon around the door handle.

The sad, drooping Blood Lilies fit in with the theme of the shop somehow and Mark smiled as he retreated to his own store for his last day of the work week.

*

When his alarm went off on the following Monday morning, Mark flung himself out of bed and slipped his clothes on in a hurry, hopping to put his shoes on and grabbing his keys and wallet on his way out.  He may be far too excited about the gift that just might be taped to his shop door and waiting for him.

He sped-walked his way to Dandy's and noticed while drawing closer to his destination that the flowers he had put on Jack's door were gone, which caused him to pick up speed. His legs filled with lead, however, when he got close enough to realize that nothing had been taped to the door of his shop. The glass was cold and bare and the tiny spark of hope that had been dancing around in Mark's heart died at the sight.

That was until the door to The Septic Tank slammed open and out strutted who he could only assume was the infamous Jack.

The man Mark had presumed to be Jack bounded across the street in a rush of energy and lifted an envelope, pressing it to Mark's shop door and pulling the tape from his hoodie pocket just as Mark walked up behind him.

"You must be Jack."

The man startled as if Satan himself had risen from the Earth to greet him. He lept five feet in the air and spun his body around to face Mark.

The guy was fucking gorgeous, but he looked a little wild for Mark's taste with two piercings through his right eyebrow, one on the left side of his bottom lip, and gauges in his ears. Mark also spotted the head of a dragon tattoo peeking out from the collar of his hoodie and he couldn't help but wonder exactly how much of the man was covered in ink and studs.

"I'm sorry," Mark apologized, "I didn't mean to scare you."

"No, no, that's alright."

OOOOOooohhh, there was an accent there.

"You must be Mark." an Irish accent. Uh oh, oh no oh no  _oh no._

There was a long silence in which they simply inspected each other. Mark was the first to gather his thoughts and stick out a hand for Jack to shake.

"Yeah, it's nice to meet you in person." Jack had a firm grip and that just wasn't fair because Mark's insides were melting and he was going to die.

The skin covering Jack's cheeks and the tips of his ears was slowly turning pink as Mark watched him fumble around in his head for words to fill the awkward silence.

"I just....um, here." Jack mumbled, handing over the art that he had done of the most recent flowers. Mark grinned as he carefully removed the painting to see that it had been done in watercolors this time and the smooth detail made the scarlet stand out from the grey background of the sidewalk and it was one of the most beautiful things Mark had ever seen. Again.

"Thank you! You really are very talented."

Jack was going to pass out if any more blood flooded to his cheeks. "Nah, just a bit creative." He glanced behind himself at Mark's shop before asking, "Have you owned this shop long?"

Jack seemed genuinely curious and Mark, wanting to continue to watch Jack shyly flounder around, answered with a smile. "Yeah, I actually worked with the previous owner and he gave it to me when he passed on."

'Fuck it', he mentally mused. If he was going to full on flirt with the guy, he might as well ask him if he wanted to spend more time together. Not really a date, it was just that the man in front of him was far too adorable to just let him go back to his shop in peace.

"So, I know this is weird and everything, but would you, um...." Mark was struggling for words. How did he say he wanted to spend time with this guy to try and get to know him without creeping him out?

Luckily, Jack seemed to catch onto what Mark wanted and answered for him. "I'd love a tour around this town at some point if you wouldn't mind. This is technically the most I've explored outside of work and the grocery store since I've arrived. You've been here a while? Could you show me around? Like where to eat and stuff?"

Yeah, Mark could totally do that. "Sure! I work almost all week but I take off on Sundays, so would you happen to want to go on an adventure with me this weekend? I'll show you some of the best food and people in town."

Jack beamed happily at the offer, "I'd love that!! Sunday? Around eleven sound good to you?"

"Yeah. Sounds great."

"Awesome." Jack was nearly purple with the blush that coated his face and Mark decided to take pity on the poor bastard and let him go back to his work.

"So I'll see ya then?" Mark went to step past him to get to his door and  _whoa_  did Jack smell good. Like Honey and campfires and coffee. Simply Edible.

Yep. Nope. Not going down that route. He didn't need some crush on the new guy who could be a psycho murderer or something. So his heart needed to calm the fuck down and start listening to his brain because he still just wasn't ready for a crush yet. His heart still ached at the thought-

No. ** _No._**

He could hear the collective voices in his head again.

_"Freak"_

Then the Old Man. Was he getting softer?

_"You are beloved, my Son."_

It was a constant battle in his head, and he just didn't need a crush right now.

But then Jack smiled at him and Mark felt his heart twirl in his chest and that smile could put the sun to shame. "Yeah! Bye Mark! It was great to meet you."

"You too, Jack!" Mark unlocked Dandy's and walked in, closing the door behind him. He gripped the painting to his chest, and practically started hyperventilating because  _holy fuck what did he just do?_

Was he really willing to move on and place all of his trust in this complete fucking stranger?

Of course not.

He had a sinking feeling in his chest that Sunday wouldn't go so well, that Jack would somehow find all of his dirty secrets and he would tear away from Mark before a connection could even be established. He knew himself well and knew that he was going to fuck the whole thing up no matter what he did.

Mark swallowed the lump in his throat and stood up straight, turning and watching as Jack crossed back over to his own shop. Right before slipping through the door, Jack spun and excitedly waved at Mark and before he could even think about it, Mark lifted a hand to wave back and a grin flashed across his face without his permission.

God  _damn_  it, he was so fucked.


	4. Irish coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Jack had seen him on his weekly visits to Lil Biscuits? When Jack looked at Mark, did he see something artistic and beautiful? Did he see a moment worth capturing and freezing in time?

There was a reason Mark lead a solitary life.  He preferred being alone and the presence of others often irritated him while he was thinking or working. But he just couldn't resist Jack's sparkling eyes and bright smile and the damn adorable Irishman had already dragged him into his world.  


Maybe they would be friends. Maybe they would become more than that. Either way, the thought was terrifying for someone who hadn't had so much as a close friend in years.

He hadn’t even had a friend since before everything happened.

He was kept on a tight leash in those days and was led to believe that he only needed one person in his life.  It took Mark a very long time to get himself into a position where he could live alone and still feel safe and secure. Years later he's much better and is stable, but certain things still hurt him to see, so no, he sure as hell wasn't ready for anything more serious than a friendship.

The week passed in a blur of faces and flowers and he tried his hardest to keep himself busy and to NOT think about the hot artist across the street. He failed more times than he would like to admit, but he at least tried to bury himself into work and not see the light of day for fear of a wide smile and charming laugh creeping into his thoughts.

As he was leaving his choice of flowers on Jack's door that Saturday night, his nerves finally crept back into him full force after hiding them from himself for an entire week. He was so intimidated to meet and interact with another human being in such close quarters, but he was also so ridiculously excited at the prospect of a fresh start that it outweighed the fear.

Most of the people in town knew how Mark had come to reside there. Knew that he came slushing through town on a miserable day and the Old Man had enough of a heart to give him a job and a home.  He was a sad and quiet person for the first couple of months, but he adjusted.

He so desperately wanted the chance to start all over again and prove that he could be a normal person with normal problems and not someone who dragged a U-haul full of emotional baggage behind him everywhere he went.

He had that chance with Jack and he was determined not to fuck it up.

He went to bed that night feeling more tired than he had in months. Partly from trying to stay busy so much, and partly from the emotional and mental taxation of trying to prepare for what might but also might not be a date with the hot tattoo artist.

He fell asleep pretty quickly, but by no means did he sleep well. His few hours of sleep were interrupted by flashbacks of horrifying memories or a deep, crushing sense of loneliness. It was nothing unusual for him, but he hadn't had a night that rough in a very long time.

He felt like shit the following morning, but he pushed himself out of bed and took a cold shower anyway.

He gazed for a few moments at himself in the bathroom mirror, focusing on his dark circles, his scruffy beard, and his out of control hair. How was Jack supposed to find any of that mess attractive?

Not that he wanted him to, of course because that was absolutely NOT what he was going for. It was not a date. Even if Jack thought of Mark as attractive-which he didn't because Mark was Mark and attractive and Mark were not synonyms- he was not ready for a date. He needed Jack to be a friend before he could ever get close enough to being a romantic interest.

He shook off his thoughts and threw on his favorite red flannel and black skinny jeans.  He snatched his beanie while walking out the door, his hair was a mess and he honestly needed a hair cut but who had the time for such things? 

Sorry, Jack. He couldn't bring himself to be pretty, he was far too tired.

He got to the shop a bit early, ready to face the day but also not.

He went inside to stay warm from the cool weather, flung his Jacket over the counter, and waited for Jack to come to him.

When Jack crossed the street and approached the shop, he smiled at Mark nervously and Mark felt his heart skip a couple of beats in his chest. He stepped out to greet Jack with an equally nervous smile and he had to repeat to himself in his head that it was not, in fact, a date. He needed to remember that. Jack had to be one of the most adorable people he ever had the pleasure of meeting, but he couldn't let himself think things like that, he had to focus on friendship.

They stood there awkwardly for a moment, but then Jack broke the uncomfortable silence, "So, I just thought that since I don't know anything about you and you could be a psycho killer, we could go to the bakery for a while and talk. I haven't been in there yet and I want to know if the food is good or not."

"I could still be a total killer and murder everyone in the bakery you know."

"But at least there, I could stab you with the spoon and take you down."

"You think you can take me scrub?"

Jack tossed his head back and laughed and the sound made Mark's skin tingle, "Of course!"

Distracted, Mark stared into Jack's eyes, but as he felt himself beginning to sink into them, he snapped himself away to speak, "Come on, follow me. How have you never been here? They have the most amazing sweet things to ever exist."

"I'll be the judge of that." That accent was going to give Mark a heart attack.

As Mark strolled in, he held the door open for Jack, who blushed at the kind treatment and lead the way over to Mark's usual table in the back. Hm, what a cute coincidence. Jack went straight for the same table that Mark always did. He sat down and waved Mark over to join him.

As soon as they were seated, Mindy approached their table to take their respective orders and she gave Mark a funny look as he almost never had guests join him while he was there. The only people who ever sat with him were the Old Man, Wade, or Bob and that was a very rare occurrence indeed.

They gave their orders and as she walked away, Mark couldn't help but notice her repeatedly look behind her at the two of them and he just kind of side-eyed her and tried to get her to tone down the obvious staring because he knew they were an odd match but it was probably freaking Jack the fuck out.

Mark was plain and not all that attractive by any means. Jack, on the other hand, was the picture of a hot badass with his gray hair artfully ruffled, tattoos, piercings, and biker boots. Mark felt himself swallow and tried to ignore it because he could not handle it damn it. It almost made Mark feel bad about not putting more effort into his appearance. Almost. He was still incredibly tired and knew he wasn't going to get any sleep anytime soon, so fuck it. If Jack was going to work across the street from him, he was going to see Mark in a worse state than what he was in.

The point: Jack was fucking hot. But Mark was trying to ignore that little detail and Mindy wasn't making it any easier. It was not a DATE dammit

Regardless of what it was, the comfortable, familiar setting allowed Mark to have the confidence to ask Jack the questions that had been haunting him since he first arrived.

"I don't mean to be rude or anything," Mark started, "but you are obviously a long way from home. Why are you in America? Why such a small town? Where did you even come from?" He was aware that the questions might be a bit much on Jack. Especially considering it was one of the very first times he spoke to the man, but he wanted to know. He wanted Jack to be the one to get him past the unbearable past and push him into the future.

Jack smiled as Mindy placed their coffee in front of them. He took a sip of his and began to tell Mark his story, Mark sat silently and listened.

Jack was apparently the baby of his family with four older siblings: two brothers and two sisters. He used to live in an apartment in a city in Ireland with friends but they moved, leaving him to fend for himself.  He was fine with this, he didn't need that much social interaction to keep himself going.

Mark smiled and giggled a little at that particular part, agreeing completely. If only Jack knew how alone Mark actually was.

He attended college twice in Ireland. The first time he wanted to graduate in Fine Arts, but he did not finish due to a job he had at the time that was stressing him out too much to really continue. The second time he went for Hotel Management and graduated with flying colors, apparently.

He went kind of quiet and Mark wondered if Jack was getting a little homesick speaking about old memories.

He then went into how he was reasonably accepted in school. He wasn't super popular, but he wasn't bullied or anything either. He was kind of neutral.  Just a normal, boring kid.

At the time, he lived in a small comfy home in the middle of the countryside and from Mark's understanding he loved the place and still misses it.

Even as a child, he had always loved art and that carried on into high school and college. He felt a connection with anything he did in the artistic field and it filled him with a happiness that he couldn't really describe and still can't. It was just something that made his life brighter. This led to him sneaking around and doing a lot of graffiti in high school, but he kicked that little habit after being caught a few times and punished for it. It was at this time and through college that he got most of his piercings and a few of his tattoos, like the dragon one that was on his neck and the skull he had on his left shoulder.

Mark really wanted to know how many tattoos and piercings he had altogether but he supposed he could reserve that for a time when he knew Jack a little better, though he was getting to know him pretty well as Jack was so willing to grace Mark with so much information at once.

Jack got very quiet for a few minutes and Mark was afraid that he was done or was bored with him as Mark hadn't said much since Jack started on his ramble. He was struck almost speechless with the sensitive information Jack awarded him with next.

Two years previous, Jack’s parents were in an automobile accent that killed his father and left his mother mortally wounded. He had rushed to the hospital that day to say his last goodbyes to his comatose mother and held her head with his brothers and sisters as she took her last breath and they listened to the heart monitor flat line.

He went home and mourned them, but as he went about his daily life, he realized that Ireland hurt and meant too much of home for Jack to stay any longer.  He was a free spirit.  He had to get away, the grief and the looks on his siblings faces every time he saw them broke him. So he took off, without any warning to anyone, he simply left.

When he first landed in America, he was living in L.A. As far away from Ireland as he could possibly get while still living in the country. He was a waiter for a bit-about a month-but his art habit took over once again and he began doodling on tickets and napkins and receipts. Which was how the next part of the story came to be.

A customer one day kind of caught sight of his doodles on the side of a napkin and asked him if he ever thought about becoming a tattoo artist. After informing the man that he had actually created the tattoos that adorned his body, the man smiled and introduced himself as Felix.

Felix owned a small, well-developed shop and offered to sharpen Jack's training and if, after a year of apprenticeship, he improved, he could have a job in his shop.

Jack was eager to jump on the open opportunity that smacked him in the face in the form of a weird tattoo artist from Sweden.

A week later, he took up apprenticing and school and his luck started climbing slowly at that point.

It normally took three years of diligent work to do that for a living, but Jack had made a deal to complete it in one and it took up almost all of his free time. Which was fine with him, like he said: he didn't need friends to distract him.

Mark just kind of nodded and sipped on his second cup of coffee, enamored with the story.

Two months after the year marker, he finally was awarded his license and he was so very proud of himself because he had made something with his life. But Jack's luck seemed to have run out as nine months later, he was booted out of the shop for fighting with his co-worker.

It was entirely unfair that he got the shit kicked out of him for dating a guy.

Jack didn't go very deep into the details of his relationship, but apparently he was forced to leave the shop and his boyfriend because of the hate and rumors that surrounded him on an everyday basis. Not to mention the threats and shit he got constantly.

Felix didn’t want him to go and offered him some form of protection that he refused to accept. Jack needed to make his own path away from the toxic environment and he skipped away not unlike he had done when he left Ireland.  

He had been saving a good chunk of change every month since he left home and decided that with this money and the money his parents left him, he would open his own shop.

It was one of his most loyal customers that introduced him to this small town in the middle of nowhere where there wasn’t a shop for miles and he would probably get decent business. Apparently, the guy had gone to the local college and moved onto bigger and better things after graduating, refusing to get trapped in such a small place.

Jack fell in love with the little town as soon as he laid eyes on it. He thought of it as peaceful and quiet. It reminded him of home, except he saw the sun much more here than in Ireland.

"Yeah, I really like it here. I hope you don't mind, but my shop is gonna be there a while. You might actually have to get used to me."

"Truly horrifying." came Mark's response.

"Jesus, Okay. I’ve been talking about myself for over an hour. What’s your story?”

Mark fumbled and nearly spilled his coffee everywhere. He in no way was as interesting and amazing as Jack was. How had he gotten the chance to get coffee with someone like this? He was sure that Jack was regretting it right at this moment as Mark was being a massive clumsy nerd.

He had no idea what to tell this insanely interesting guy that had just written his entire life out for Mark to see. Mark was just a stranger to Jack still, and they barely knew anything about each other, but he felt compelled to tell Mark so much about himself and he was drawn in yet again by those icy eyes and he begun to spin the web of his life for Jack to see.

He supposed that it was okay to tell him minor details about himself. Details that he could really give anyone, he didn't have to pour out his heart.  He had no obligation to stay and tell Jack anything, but for the first time in a very long time, he wanted someone else to know about him. He wouldn't tell Jack too much, but he would tell him more than he told most of the town.

He was trying dammit, sue him.

"Well, there's not much to tell, really."

Mark was born in Hawaii but moved to Ohio at a young age and this is where he and his older brother grew up.

During his college years, in which he was working on a major in Biomedical Engineering, he lost his father to cancer which was one of the most Earth-shattering moments in his life. It took a huge toll on his family and home and one of the most painful experiences Mark had ever been through.

He still didn’t have much contact with his family.

He knew that it wasn't nearly enough information, not anywhere close to what Jack shared, but he just…..couldn’t tell anyone much more than what he had just told Jack.

To his surprise, Jack wasn't angry and frustrated with Mark's lack of details, he simply smiled and motioned for him to continue.

Mark moved to town about four years ago and he completely fell in love just as Jack had.

The Old man, since he had nowhere to go when he first dragged his sloppy ass into town, offered him a job and a warm home and in exchange Mark worked at Dandy’s until the old man died a year later.

The Old Man had grown on him in that year and had become some sort of father figure to him, and the death almost ripped Mark to pieces all over again. It was the main reason Mark kept to himself: everything he touches wilts away, even the flowers.

He was enraged to find that the Old Man's daughters wanted to sell the place and were even in the legal process of it when it came to light that the Old Man had left the shop to Mark in the event of his death.

Mark could remember being speechless and feeling as if the blood in his veins was icing over and it had to either be the worst or best day of his life.

The daughters hated him even before the whole fiasco and the hatred intensified with the occasion. They never had anything more to do with him, which was fine with Mark; he was happy to never see the two again.

And so he kept the shop and continued to run it as the Old Man wanted.

“I’m glad these shitty events lined up and I could meet you." The confession took them both by surprise and Jack blushed scarlet and Mark thought that maybe his eyes were going to pop out of his skull. Shit. Shit. He fucked up. Abort mission. Abort, abort.

As Mark was trying to formulate a comment from his clumsy tongue, Mindy waltzed over and asked if they would like anything more. Mark asked for another refill even though it would be his third cup while Jack announced that he had to return to his shop to clean up a few things from the previous day.

Mark glanced down at his phone and was surprised at the time. They had been sitting there for the past two hours and he should probably let Jack escape his clutches.

Jack paid, and after setting up another date for the following Sunday, he said goodbye to Mark and walked away. Mark sat in the bakery and lost himself in thought for a while.

Talking with Jack brought back a lot of old, rusted memories. He missed his brother, his family and his home. Maybe he should try and make contact with them again?

No. Bad idea.

_“Freak”_

That word just keeps getting louder and louder and it made Mark extremely ill because the Old Man’s voice kept getting softer and softer.

_“You are beloved, my son.”_

He could do this dammit. He could let someone in. He needed to. He hated being so alone.

He sighed, paid his portion of the bill, and headed back to the shop to pick up the jacket he had discarded there earlier.

Upon arrival at his door, he smiled happily as there was a familiar large envelope spread across the front of it. Maybe he hadn't scared Jack away after all.

Jack. That sneaky bastard.

He gently picked it off the door, but decided not to open it yet. He gathered his jacket and began the walk home.

He had made the choice to walk instead of driving because the weather was beautiful and he was in need of some exercise if he wanted to be honest with himself. Envelope in hand, he tilted his head back and let the sun shine on his face and the wind blow through his hair. He loved chilly but sunny days. The only thing better was the rain.

When he got home, he dropped the envelope on his bed and headed for a shower first. He was excited to open it, but he felt gross and his back was aching again and he needed to feel the warm water wash a bit of the pain away.

Even though it was still mid-day, Mark thought it would be best for him to go to bed to try and make up for his lack of sleep the previous night. He felt tired and sore and just wanted to rest.

Twenty minutes later, after brushing his teeth and putting on his jammies, Mark picked the envelope back up and sunk down into his bed to open it.

It smelled distinctly like Jack and Mark blushes. How creepy could he possibly be?

He slides the gorgeous creation out of the envelope and could not help but to gasp at the detail and hard work that had obviously been put into the piece.

It was Lil Biscuits, with what was clearly Mark sitting in the back with a coffee in hand and a book open in front of him. There were blurred shapes hustling and bustling around him and the whole scene took his breathe away.

So Jack had seen him on his weekly visits to Lil Biscuits? When Jack looked at Mark, did he see something artistic and beautiful?  Did he see a moment worth capturing and freezing in time?

That was a conversation with his brain that he should probably have in the morning. He got up and propped the art up in front of his dresser and curled back into a small ball in his bed, waiting for sleep to come.

Yeah, he could already feel Jack worming his way into his heart.


	5. I Want to Try

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As they were climbing into the van that afternoon after visiting and giving flowers to each person, Mark had a sudden realization: He felt oddly comfortable with Jack. Comfortable enough to let him see him smile and laugh. Comfortable enough to sit in silence with him and it not be weird or awkward.

Jack does really well for himself in such a small town.    


Every once in a while, when Mark wasn't extremely busy or occupied, he would glance over at the shop across the street and see at least two people sitting in the tiny waiting room.  Mark was proud of what his new friend was accomplishing and he kind of wished he had it in him to get a tattoo, he was sure Jack would do a phenomenal job.

Being so busy, Jack rarely had free time, but he still made time to visit with Mark when neither of them had many customers or in the morning when Mark was slowest and Jack wasn't even open yet.

At first, Mark didn't think much of it when about a week after their coffee date, Jack came by and asked Mark if he could sit in the shop and draw some of the flowers that Mark had on display.  

Mark thought of the excuse as suspicious.  He could understand that Jack needed a reference, but that's why the internet existed.  Mark let this thought slide and let Jack in to do as he pleased.

After a few minutes of silence, while Jack was sketching a petunia and Mark was trying to figure out how to put together a bouquet for an elderly woman's birthday, they began to speak to each other.  

On that first day, Jack sat there for hours and spoke to Mark about anything and everything.  About love, life, happiness, and video games.  

He found on that day that Jack was a big fan of games.  They spent nearly two hours, half of which time Jack's sketch pad sat discarded on the counter beside them, discussing new and old games.  Games that disappointed them and the ones that they loved.  It seemed that he had finally found someone in this little town that shared his passion.

Jack left that day with not a single drawing finished and a promise that they would talk more soon.

They did this more than a few times over the next three weeks.  Jack would come in almost every morning when he wasn't open and would speak with Mark on a wide assortment of things.  On some days, he would curl into a ball in front of a flower or behind the counter by Mark's feet and sketch out something for one of his own customers.  

Somehow, Mark got accustomed to Jack's presence as the days went on, and by the end of the month, it was routine for the two of them.  They were comfortable together, which was an odd sensation for Mark.  

He would even bring Jack on his weekly visit to Lil Biscuits if Jack had the time, which sometimes he did, but others he was in the middle of inking someone's skin and Mark didn't want to interrupt that at all.

On the afternoons when he would go alone, he would sit at their usual table and silently contemplate how 'his' table had become 'theirs' in such a short time span.  He thought about how nice it would be to just skip over to The Septic Tank every afternoon to watch Jack work, just as he did to Mark every morning, because Jack made some of the most amazing creations Mark had ever seen.  

Within the first few days of their new morning routine, Mark had hesitantly asked if Jack had some sort of portfolio.  He watched as Jack lit up in excitement and sprinted to his office across the street and back before shoving a huge binder-like thing in Mark arms.  He was bouncing on the balls of his feet like a child, eager for Mark to inspect his work.

As Mark looked through the pages, he fell more in love with the gorgeous worlds that Jack created with each flip.  From dragons and skulls to fairies and flowers, it was all unique and intensely beautiful to Mark.  When he told Jack as much, the man's cheeks and ears turned a deep crimson and he stuttered out what sounded like a thank you.

As the days passed, Jack had managed to elbow his way into Mark's heart and intended to stay there, not that either of them minded.  Mark wasn't sure if Jack wanted to get to know him personally or if he was just lonely and in need of a friend, maybe he should introduce Jack to some of the people around town so that he wouldn't have to deal with Mark anymore if he didn't want to.

On the morning of his monthly trip, he kind of forgot about Jack showing up at his door.  He was busy loading the truck and giving Mindy instructions on what to do in his absence when Jack popped his head around the side of the truck, scaring the crap out of Mark.

"Mark!" God, he loved to hear that accent, "What are you doing? Where are you going?  You don't usually have orders this big do you?  You should really think about hiring some help."

Plopping his sketchbook on the ground where he was sure no one would trip over or step on it, he hopped inside the truck to help Mark load the adorable rows of tiny flowers that were sitting on the curb.

"Jack! Hi, I forgot to tell you about this."  Mark turned to look at him, wiping the sweat off of his face with his t-shirt, "On the twentieth of every month I go over to Sunny Pines Retirement Home to visit the elderly.  Give them flowers and stuff you know?  Since there's not much else I can do for them."

Jack stared at him in silence for a few moments before grinning, "I want to come!! Do you have room for one more in this piece of shit?"

"Stop insulting the boogie bus, Jack.  It's fine.  Just old.  Yes, I don't see why you can't tag along, but don't you have a shop to run?  You know, people to doodle on? Appointments to keep?"

"They're late this afternoon and I can reschedule them if I want to.  I'll get Mabel to call and take care of everything for me.  Since, you know, she's my secretary and does these things.  Like you should have."

"We've been over this.  I've done this on my own just fine for three years."

"Mark, you're going to work yourself into the ground one of these days.  I'm not saying go into business with someone just hire a kid from the college or something to run shit while you're busy so you can breathe and not have to practically live at work."

When Jack started to spend his mornings with Mark, he started to arrive at the same time or even sometimes earlier than him.  Which blew Mark's mind because why the hell did he want to wake up so early when he went to bed so late just to spend time with him of all people?

About a week before, he had a massive wedding to do and pulled two all-nighters in the shop to complete everything.  He slept on the couch and ate shitty food like he always did and on the first morning, Jack must have suspected that Mark was just there early and didn't comment on him being there.  On the second day that Jack hadn't seen him walk over and unlock his shop, he made Mark explain why and how he was there and when he told Jack he'd been sleeping upstairs, he made Mark lead him up into his workspace to show him.

The room that he led him to was covered in dying flowers, discarded thorns, and an empty space in the middle where Mark's butt had been planted for two days.  Jack glared over at Mark, sauntered over to the couch, laid down on it, and said, "No wonder you were complaining the other day about your back hurting.  This is not a bed and now that I know where it is, I will bother you incessantly until you go home.  I'm not even joking.  You need your rest you doof."

Mark climbed into the driver's side of the van and waited patiently as Jack ran over to his shop to warn his secretary that he wouldn't be there.  As soon as Jack was safely seated next to him, Mark started the van and they headed for Sunny Pines.

Despite Mark's original thoughts, the elderly simply adored Jack and how could he blame them?  Anyone would be drawn into those blue eyes and charming accent.

When they first arrived, Jack made an offhand comment about how he hoped no one would mind his tattoos or piercings.  

Mark had gotten so accustomed to them being there and part of everyday life, he thought nothing of them. They were just part of Jack.  But he had no idea what the people in the home would think.

Then again, some of them had piercings and tattoos of their own, so it wasn't like it was unheard of.  He was sure it would be fine and he told Jack as much.

"Yeah, old people with tattoos are badass."  

The nurses either found the two of them repulsive or attractive.  There was no in between.  Some of them would take one look at the two of them and the cart between them overflowing with a ridiculous amount of plants and walk away as quickly as possible.  Others rushed over to the two of them and helped them out.  Almost every time a nurse looked up and caught Jack's icy blue eyes, Mark could practically watch as they fell head over heels for the oblivious man.

It wasn't hard to do.

Mrs. Clark was the first to speak up about it, "Finally someone to help you out!  I thought you were going to work yourself into an early grave, dear."

At that, Jack's head snapped up and he made an "I fucking TOLD YOU SO" gesture at Mark.  He only glared back at Jack and put a finger to his lips to try and convey the message to shut the fuck up.

Seeing all of this play out with eyes too keen for a woman her age, Mrs. Clark chuckled and said, "I see you agree with me, young man.  I must admit, I immediately like you.  Someone needs to watch over this hard-headed little thing."

"I'm not little," Mark grumbled as Jack burst into a laughing fit.

"Oh, dear, you're much smaller than some of the nurses who come in, but you're attractive for your size, I'm sure someone will get their hands on you eventually."

Jack, coming down from his fit, looked over at Mark and Mark watched as the smiled never faltered from his face, "Yeah.  Someone will eventually."

Mark turned an interesting mix of red and purple and quickly said his goodbyes to Mrs. Clark before peeling out of there.

Only one or two people said anything about Jack's appearance, but when an old man blatantly asked Mark why he was spoiling himself and hanging out with "riff-raff" Mark got a little bit of a lot angry.

" _Sir_ ," and his tone spoke volumes to the old man, "Jack is an amazing friend and I have to ask you to be kind and respect him.  I am the one that is lucky enough to have someone to put up with me on such a constant basis."

Jack looked at him in surprise but the frown that the old man brought to his handsome face disappeared and Mark was overjoyed that he made the right decision in coming to Jack's defense.

It was true, though, Jack was the one that crashed into Mark's life and he was still immensely surprised he hadn't driven him away yet.

" _Freak_ "

" _You are beloved_."

Mark knew the room numbers of the ones who didn't want to see him, who hated him for what he was and he simply asked Jack to place a flower on the table beside the door for them to find and probably throw away later.

"Why? Are they really sick?  I'm sure a nurse would help us with that." Mark really did not want to have this conversation with Jack.  Not right now.

"No, they...they're just not fond of me."

"Why?  You're super nice and give them flowers.  Who doesn't like that mushy shit?"

"You sound like a five year old."

"And you sound like you're avoiding the question."

"They don't like...they don't like the way I am."

"I thought I just said that that didn't make any sense.  You had to do something to them.  What's so different about you that they don't like?  Is it because rainbows and sunshine shoot outta your ass?"

Mark nearly choked on his own spit at that one and before he had to answer any more of Jack's questions, ducked into the next room in complete ninja fashion.  He didn't want to lose yet another person that he had just begun to care about.

Jack let it slide for the rest of the day and quit heckling Mark about it, which Mark was grateful for.  It seemed Jack knew Mark well enough at that point to know when to back down from a subject.

As they were climbing into the van that afternoon after visiting and giving flowers to each person, Mark had a sudden realization: He felt oddly comfortable with Jack.  Comfortable enough to let him see him smile and laugh.  Comfortable enough to sit in silence with him and it not be weird or awkward.

When he was with Jack, he had the complete comfort of not having to hide anything or impress anyone, he could just be Mark.

Too bad he was hiding things anyway.

Which really wasn't fair.  Jack was a kind, charming, and lovable guy.  He didn't deserve to be around someone who kept secrets from him.  He deserved an honest and open friendship with someone much more interesting than Mark.

He knew he had a crush on Jack.  He wasn't stupid.  He knew his emotions and thoughts well enough to know what the tightening in his chest meant when Jack laughed.  But he also knew that he was not ready for any kind of relationship.  He was barely ready for friendship and to be honest, Mark was fairly confident he was doing _that_ wrong.

The way Jack looked at him sometimes when he thought he wasn't looking told him that he might even feel the same way about Mark.  

He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and waited for the butterflies in his stomach to settle.  He couldn't handle Jack knowing all of his dirty secrets.  Couldn't handle Jack looking at him the same way that certain other people did.  He simply couldn't cope if Jack, the only true friend besides Bob and Wade that he'd had in a very long time, left him.

He just wasn't ready.  He needed to suck up these feelings and try to be the best friend to Jack that he could be at the moment.

But maybe it was time for him to try.

The Old Man popped back into Mark's head with wise words and a kind heart, "Mark, you have to let go of this eventually.  I know you don't want to be alone for the rest of your life.  You've told me so.  If it was your wish to be alone, then I would let you be, but it's not.  You have to destroy the self-deprecating thoughts that are killing you and allow yourself to grow."

Mark looked over at Jack for a fraction of a second and had to do a double-take because damn.

It was late afternoon and the sun was just beginning to set beyond the trees.  Jack was content to watch it sink in silence, somehow just enjoying the quiet intimacy he and Mark shared in that moment.  It was the perfect temperature to have the windows down, so Jack's normally painstakingly sculpted hair was ruffled by the whipping wind and there was a small smile stretched across his lips.

It was one of the most beautiful things Mark had ever seen in his life.

_Fuck_

When they arrived back at Dandys, Mark parked the van in the back of the shop and hopped out to close the gates behind them.  Jack slid out of the passenger side and waited for Mark as he fumbled with the bolt for a few moments.  He followed silently behind as Mark led him to the back door of the shop, which Mindy opened for them, a sneaky smile gracing her lips as she inspected the two.

"Did you guys have fun?" she asked, all innocence and sunshine.

"I think the old people loved me!  I don't blame them, look how adorable I am!" Jack exclaimed as he put his hands to his cheeks and fluttered his lashes at Mindy and Mark.

"They were just tolerating you because of me." Mark laughed and led the way back inside.

"Pft.  Pah-lease!  They were falling over themselves to get to me."  Jack passed Mark on the way to the door with a sassy sway to his hips and Mark was almost tempted to slap-

Okay.  That line of thought needed to be derailed, "So, what you're saying is you made old people hurt themselves for your entertainment.  Jesus, Jack, have some dignity."

"I hate to interrupt the flirting," Mindy practically shouted and the two men spun to look at her, "but I need to head back home, I have some stuff to finish up?" She raised one sculpted eyebrow and placed a hand on her hip.

"Right this way."  Mark chose to ignore the first part of her sentence and led the way upstairs to his office to pay her, leaving Jack at the front of the shop playing with his phone.

As Mark was counting out the money she earned into her waiting palm, she struck, "You and Jack seem to be getting...close." she began.  "You guys come to the bakery together every week when you used to say that it was your thing."

Mark cringed and shrugged, "What's a coffee together? I don't even know him that well."

She gave him a disbelieving look. "Whatever you say, but just in case something happens, I want you to know that the two of you will always be welcomed into the bakery no matter what."

Touched by the sentiment, Mark stopped what he was doing and looked into her sparkling green eyes.  Good lord was she pretty, and she had the kindness and patience of a saint. She would make someone very happy one day.

As he finished counting out her money, she pulled him into a brief, unexpected hug.  After getting over his surprise, he squeezed her back. With a smile and a roll of her eyes, she said goodbye, waltzed downstairs with him, and waved a quick bye to Jack before heading out the door.

Mark shook his head at her as he watched her leave.  She was truly something to behold.

"SO" Jack came to stand beside him and Mark turned to give him his attention.

"What's up?"

Jack shifted on his feet as if he was nervous about something and the look on his face told Mark that he was uncomfortable.  Mark couldn't think of anything he had done in the past few moments to make Jack feel this way.  His eyebrows knitted together and he tilted his head in cautious curiosity, "Jack, what's wrong?"

"Well..." Jack let his sentence drift off and he glanced over at his shop across the street for a moment before looking back at Mark.  Mark could swear he saw a war wage in Jack's eyes.

"Um," the crimson stain that had begun to spread across his cheeks when he first started to speak was slowly crawling across the tip of his ears and down to his collarbones.  

All of a sudden, as if he had come to an abrupt decision, Jack's eyes snapped to Mark's, "I have a few tickets to the college's theatre show this weekend and I don't exactly have any friends in this town other than you and if you feel uncomfortable and don't want to go then its fine I'll go on my own it's just that a student who I did a dragon for gave them to me and said that she hoped I showed up and I wanted to go, but not on my own an-"

Mark could feel the flush on his face as he interrupted the rambling, "Jack are you...are you asking me out on a date?"

"What? No! Um no.  Unless you want it to be.  It can be a date.  I'd be totally alright with it being a date, um."

Jack looked as if he was praying for the floor to open up so he could slip into another dimension.

"I'll go."

Jack's head snapped up and he looked at Mark for a moment "Really?"

"Yeah.  Yeah, I'll go on a date with you." He was going to try, anyway.  He wasn't sure yet if he could do relationships but he really wanted to try with Jack.  Mark felt like it was the first time he was able to trust in a person in a very long time.

The smile that spread across Jack's face made Mark think that he was going to die because his heart just stopped beating for a few moments and that was dangerous.

"Great! I'll text you about it?"

"Yeah.  Sounds fine."  Mark could feel his heart trying to make up for the lost time by jumping into his throat and speeding up.  Was he really going to do this?

"I'll um, I'll see you then huh? Well, maybe before then but you know, um, I'll see you? Probably in the morning? Yeah, I'll see you in the morning.  The usual.  Bye, Mark!" The moment his name came out of Jack's mumbling goodbye, he felt his heart give an extra assertive thump and he was positive Jack heard it.

Jack turned and allowed him to unlock the front of the shop so he could head over to his own.  Mark could see that he had one person in the waiting room and he could only assume that it was one of the appointments he set for the day.

"Bye, Jack!" Mark hoped that as Jack walked away from him, he didn't see the panic that was smeared all over Mark's face.  He was going to try.  For himself, the Old Man, and Jack.  He was going to try.  

But was he really ready?  Did he have it in him to actually just go on one simple date with Jack?  He wanted to.  He wanted so desperately to be able to let Jack in and possibly love him one day, but he wasn't so sure if he could.

He watched as Jack slipped into his shop and, assuming Mark couldn't see him through the tinted glass, do a little happy dance.

That was fucking adorable and Mark wanted to see more.

Maybe he could do this.


	6. First Dates and Mud Fights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "That's what makes it so special! Embrace the movie moments! You don't need shoes." Jack wiggled his bare toes as proof.

Jack still came by the shop every morning and made himself comfortable wherever, but it didn't stop Mark from freaking out at practically any second about if Jack actually wanted to go on this date or not.  Was he good enough for Jack?  Could he handle being in a relationship?   


He didn't have answers to any of those questions.

After a pretty uneventful week of work, Mark closed off the shop at noon on Friday to have lunch with Jack as usual.  It was one of his favorite times of the week and as Jack was walking across the street while pocketing his keys, he assumed that he was free as well.  

"My treat today?" Jack asked, smiling cutely at Mark.

That was a bit surprising.  They normally paid separately and there was never any controversy over it.  What had happened in the past week to change the style of their Friday meetings?

Oh, yeah.  They had a date tomorrow.

Mark blushed furiously and smiled back at Jack.  He didn't want to be rude and refuse the generosity, but he didn't want Jack to feel as if he had to pay for anything either...

"Mark.  I see the gears turning.  Calm down, I'm just being nice okay?  No sweat."

The smile on Jack's face and the tone in which he said it made it easier for Mark to accept and he followed the slightly smaller man to the bakery.

*

The play was being held in a building at the very edge of the college campus and was to be held from 7 to 8 pm that night. 

So, naturally, Mark woke up at 6 am that morning.  

He had gone to sleep early the previous night for reasons unknown, and he was kind of panicking at the state of his face and his house and his life.  Jack did NOT need to see him as he was.

He spent his day cleaning his house and trying to get himself together because it was all he could think to do to calm his frazzled nerves, but as the time he was supposed to meet Jack grew closer and closer, his stomach started twisting into horrible tight knots and yeah, Mark might actually throw up all over his date and that just wasn't acceptable social behavior.

Maybe he didn't have it in him to do this.  He wanted to smile and laugh and be at ease with Jack and could they really do that if they were dating or was he being a paranoid freak again? 

No.  He told himself he would try for Jack.  Jack was the only person that he actually liked romantically in the past several years and he wanted to do this.

The anxiety and anticipation was killing him and his heart could explode at any moment.  

He squished the fear and nausea that rose up in his throat, locked the door to his apartment, and headed out to meet Jack.  Everything would be  _fine_.

Holy shit.  Okay, maybe he wasn't prepared.  He wasn't ready for this.  There was no way the man currently sitting beside him was attracted to Mark.  

Mark was paying more attention to Jack than to the show. He wasn't lying when he warned Mark before they were seated that he would get very into what was happening on stage, that he really enjoyed things like this. 

Jack was leaning forward in his seat, eyes glued to the performance before them.  His fists were at his chest, clutching his own shirt, his eyes sparkled with wonder and imagination, and his shoulders sat rigid, alert to every movement. 

Of course Jack would be more captivating than the entire performance.

_Shit._

At some point in his staring, Mark realized that he had no idea what the name of the show was.  Or what it was about.  He was too busy ogling the Irishman to pay attention to it, so when said grey-haired gentleman looked over at him and asked if he was enjoying himself, Mark didn't know what to say.  He blushed, which he happened to be doing a lot with Jack lately, and nodded frantically, smiling like he knew exactly what he was talking about.

Walking out of the theater later that night was a nightmare.  Jack was talking animatedly about the plot and characters and general acting, while all Mark could do was smile politely and hum in response, trying not to upset him about not watching the show.  

"I'm sorry, Mark, I must sound like an idiot to you.  Rambling about some stupid college production that probably wasn't that great." He turned to Mark and gave an embarrassed smile.

"You're so fucking adorable when you're excited."  Shit.  He meant for that to stay in a thought bubble.  _Shit._   He slapped a hand over his mouth and swore that all the blood in his body was rushing to his face.

As he was currently looking at anything other than Jack, he missed the soft blush and shy smile that graced Jack's face.  

"Thank you."

Mark hummed and still refused to look over in Jack's direction.  A few moments later, he felt something brush against the back of his hand and his head snapped down hard enough for his neck to crack to see Jack's fingers curling into his own.  He could feel the warmth of another palm press against his.

When he finally looked up at Jack's face, he was looking at the ground and his eyes were clouded with worry about how Mark would accept the tiny gesture. It warmed Mark's heart and reminded him that he wasn't the only person to consider in the relationship.

Mark smiled and squeezed Jack's hand to let him know that it was alright, even though he had no idea if it actually was.  

They passed their shops in silence and Mark began to wonder where they were going when Jack spoke up.

"I thought I would be a perfect gentleman like my Ma taught me and walk you home, but you have to lead the way, I don't actually know where you live."

Mark smiled and started to lead them in the direction of his home.  He wasn't sure about the relationship yet, but he knew he could trust Jack enough to show him what building he lived in.

Four blocks later, they were approaching Mark's apartment complex and as they turned toward it, a confused look crossed Jack's face and he asked, "Do you live in the apartments?"

Mark looked over at him, confused, "Yeah?  Why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know.  I just thought you lived in one of the smaller houses away from town."

"No, I feel like I need to be with people.  I mean, I don't like people a lot.  Not many anyway, but I feel the need to be in the hub of civilization at the same time. It's complicated.  It would be easy to move away to a small, private place if I had someone else you know?"

"Yeah, trust me, I know."

As they climbed the stairs to the third floor, Jack wheezing and Mark laughing.  His laughter died as a sour feeling tugged at Mark's stomach.  He was about to show someone, a real live person, where he lived.  Not even Bob and Wade, the first friends he made in town, knew where he lived exactly.  It was intimate and personal and he was about to show this to Jack.  But he felt as if he could trust Jack.  He could breathe easy.

_"Freak"_

_"You are beloved”_ Mark really didn’t like how soft the Old Man’s voice was getting.

Mark pulled Jack over to his apartment, hands still entwined and stared unblinkingly at his door for a few seconds, unable to move and the acid in his stomach was bubbling up into his chest.

"Mark?"

He looked behind him to see Jack smiling at him comfortingly, "I'll just leave you here at the door okay?  I need to finish some stuff for a client on Monday and I'm bringing in a new recruit to help me with the shop when I'm not there.  He's very experienced and his wife is really nice and I need to get everything set up for him. I'm rambling, I know," his words turned nervous and timid, "I just wanted to ask you if we could do this again next week maybe?  Maybe go for a walk in the park and just talk to each other or something stupid and cheesy like that? God, I'm so lame, I'm sorry I just-"

Mark reached a hand out and rested it against Jack's cheek, causing the man to stop mid-sentence and he watched as Jack's breath caught in his chest.  Did Jack really find him that attractive or did he not want Mark touching him?  "Sure!  I would love to do this with you again.  Next Sunday maybe?  I have a wedding to do on Saturday."

"Of course, of course!! I'll um, I'll see you then." Mark rubbed a finger over Jack's cheek and smiled, the comfort and peace Jack brought to him returning as he stared into his gorgeous eyes.

Jack blushed like crazy and took a step back.  Mark let his hand slip away, turning back to his door and starting to search for his keys.  He still couldn't watch anyone walk away from him, even if he knew he would see them again in a few days.

After shutting his door and hearing the last of Jack's footsteps fade away, he sunk to the floor in panic.  What was he doing to himself? What was he doing to Jack?

The following Monday at work wasn't as stressed and awkward as he had assumed it being.  It was actually just as easy as every other day.  Jack came in, sat himself up behind the counter at Mark's feet, and started sketching out an Alice in Wonderland themed sleeve for a customer that came in just before Jack left on Saturday.  

Unfortunately, this week, Mark was uncharacteristically busy.  There was a particularly glamorous wedding on Saturday and he needed to arrange every single bouquet on his own before Friday.  Jack, for his part, sat quietly and kept him company in the mornings while he was frantically trying to fix everything.  

On Thursday evening, after the store closed and the shipment of everything he needed for Saturday was in, he locked himself in his workroom and began his constant stream of work.  

Hours later, his back aching and his head throbbing, he heard the alarming sound of footsteps in his store.  He shot up and grabbed a vase to smash over the head of the intruder when the door opened and he suddenly regretted showing Jack where he did most of his work.

"Do you know its fucking one o'clock in the morning and you need your sleep?"

"How did you get in here?"

"I picked the lock.  You need to rest."

"What do you mean you picked the lock?"

"What do you think it means? I picked the lock.  Don't worry, I locked it back behind me."

"Jack-"

"Mark, I'm not sitting here and watching you work yourself into the ground."

Mark glared at Jack stubbornly. He put the vase back in its proper place before plopping down in his usual spot and continuing what he was doing.  He did his best to ignore Jack who was yelling curses at him in two different languages.

When it became quiet, Mark looked up to see Jack sigh in defeat and walk over to where Mark was sitting.  He nudged him over with his foot and sat so close that Mark's heart rate rose a bit.  

He didn't say anything.  Never even really moved after that, just sat quietly and kept Mark company while he worked, handing him various materials and offering comments and questions as time went on.

Eventually, he felt the weight of Jack's head resting on his shoulder but ignored it in favor of finishing the last two arrangements.  

"Jack, what do you think of this Spider lily? Should I leave it in or would it be too overbearing?"

When a response didn’t come, he turned his head to address Jack directly, only to notice the soft snores and the hot puffs of even breathing ghosting across his neck.  

Dropping away from what he was doing, he reached around with one hand to gently cup the back of Jack's head.  

Mark shifted his body to face Jack.  He slid the hand that was cupping his head around until his cheek rested against Mark's shoulder again and he could easily slide his other arm underneath Jack's legs.  Careful not to move his upper body too much, Mark pushed himself to his feet using his legs and lifted Jack up bridal style.

It was a miracle he was still snoozing after all of that.

He placed Jack down on the couch and took off his hoodie to bundle underneath Jack's head.  It was a bit cold in the room, but Mark would deal with it to see Jack happy and comfortable.  

The image of Jack snuggling further into his hoodie and smiling would ingrain itself into Mark's mind and never leave.

He sat back in his spot and continued on, finishing what was due an hour later.

As Jack was on the couch and Mark could not bring himself to wake the sleeping angel, he propped up  with his back to the couch and fell asleep listening to the sound of Jack's even breathing.

He woke up alone, which was horrible and painful, but he could deal.

He picked himself up and headed into his office to grab his spare change of clothes so he could hop in the shower, but couldn't find them.  He looked everywhere.  In the desk, the cabinets, and even underneath the office chairs, but he couldn't find the spare stuff he had stashed away anywhere.

He groaned and turned to go downstairs when he heard something that made him stop in his tracks.  Was that the shower running?

_No._

Sean McLoughlin was  _not_  going to come out of that bathroom in Mark Fischbach's clothes.  He  _wasn't._

He heard the water drip to a stop and the sound of someone bumping and crashing around.  He should feel violated.  Jack had obviously gone through his office and found a spare change of clothes and decided to make himself at home.  But he didn't feel that way at all, he felt warm and happy that Jack found himself comfortable enough to take such liberties with his stuff and oh shit the door opened.

Oh,  _shit_.

When Jack stepped out into the hallway, slightly damp and in Mark's T-shirt and sweatpants, every bit of spit in Mark's mouth dried up and heat spread from his temple to his toes.

Jack was the same height, but generally less bulky than Mark and his chest and arms didn't fill out the shirt as well and the sweatpants hung low on his hips.  Mark was going to die.  Right here.  Right now.  

Jack spotted him loitering at the end of the hall and made his way over, still dragging a towel through his wet hair, "Mark!  Sorry to steal your stuff, man, I just felt so gross after sleeping on the couch and I'll just run home to get some clothes for myself and give these back to you.  I'll be back in a flash, I know you only have like two hours until you open."

With that, Jack hurried past him and Mark caught a sniff of his own soap and shampoo lingering on Jack's skin and hair.  

He followed Jack downstairs, "I'll just head home for a shower.  It'll take me less than an hour and I'll have decent clothes to wear.  No big deal, just keep those and keep an eye on the shop while I'm gone and we'll be even, deal?"

Jack smiled at him, "Deal.   I'm going to go next door first and pick up some breakfast because I'm starving my ass off and we both need a good cup of coffee.  I'll see you when you get back, yeah?"  

"Yeah."  It was so domestic and comfortable that Mark felt a little bit sick.  He wanted this every day for the rest of his existence but at the same time never wanted to see this happen to him again.  

He was too busy to accompany Jack to Lil Biscuits at lunch that day, causing him to go to the bakery for the first time on his own.  He came back around closing time that afternoon and threatened to drag Mark home by his ear if he didn't cooperate and get some rest, so Mark packed up shop and trudged home, Jack watching him go until he rounded the corner and was far enough away from the shop to not want to come back.

It was great to have friends, but his business was going to suffer.

It was raining that Sunday, which sucked because while he was nervous and scared of getting so close, Jack was a great companion and Mark wanted to spend more time with him.  

He sulked around for most of the day after Jack called to inform him that their date had to be rescheduled because of the rain.  

This week at work was going to be an easy one as far as he knew, so he would see plenty of Jack, but he wanted the chance to walk and talk with him when all of their attention would be on each other.  He wanted to get to know him personally without work getting in the way.

In the middle of watching the entire Lord of the Rings series, Mark heard a knock on his door and immediately a spike of fear lodged itself into his heart.  

Who could be visiting him?

He peeked through a slit in the door at first, but swung it wide open when he saw a completely drenched and smiling Jack standing on the other side.  The spike of fear almost melted.

Jack held out his hand, "C’mon."

"What?" Mark was confused.  What could Jack have traveled all this way in the rain for?

"Come on, Mark! Come dance in the rain with me!"

"What?? Jack, we're not in a movie!  I don't even have shoes on!" Mark laughed.

"That's what makes it so special! Embrace the movie moments!  You don't need shoes."  Jack wiggled his bare toes as proof.

"I'll get sick."

"Take a chance, Mark.  I got you."

Mark hesitated, but finally slipped his warm, dry hand into Jack's cool damp one.  Jack pulled him out of his door, barely letting him lock it behind them, before dragging Mark down the stairs and out the front door.  They burst out into the streets and Jack continued to lead Mark sprinting into the nearby park.  They slid to a stop in the middle of a clearing.  

Mark's neighbors were going to think he was crazy, but he didn't care.  Jack was laughing a loud, hyena laugh and spinning around in circles.  Mark was bouncing and pivoting to keep up with the ever energetic man and he couldn't help but burst into booming laughter at the ridiculousness.

They were two grown men, dancing around in the pouring rain, badly might he add, and laughing at each other when they slipped or stumbled.

They were dancing separately at first, but as Mark slowed to a stop and let the rain wash over him, relaxing in it, Jack took his hand and pulled him close.  

Mark melted against Jack, and enjoyed the smooth, rhythmic movements that Jack led them into.

Mark, the ever clumsy one, slipped on a patch of mud and wasn't able to recover in time to right himself.

He slid down and felt his back and ass be coated in thick, gross mud.  Jack, being on his feet still, began to laugh at Mark's misfortune.

Deciding that revenge was the best option, Mark scooped up a glob of mud and smushed it into the side of Jack's unsuspecting face.  His eyes popped open and the horrified face Jack pulled made Mark toss his head back and roar with laughter.

The fight had begun.  Jack scooped up globs of mud and tackled Mark, smearing it into his neck and chest while Mark rolled them over and pushed Jack's entire back and hair into the mud.  Jack retaliated by running dirty hands through Mark's hair and threading mud through it.

"Oh, God.  No stop." Mark’s laughter reached a new pitch as Jack rolled them back over and lifted Mark's shirt enough to push mud onto his stomach, making him squeal.

After catching his breath, Mark looked up into Jack's eyes to see the adoration and attraction there.  Jack leaned forward and placed a hand of Mark's cheek, smearing more mud on the skin the rain was trying to wash clean.  

Mark reached up and grabbed both sides of Jack's face, bringing him down into a warm kiss.

Heat bloomed in his chest, happiness seized his heart, and for the first time in years, Mark's mind went silent.  He didn't focus on anything on the planet apart from the feeling of Jack's lips pressed tightly against his own.

Forgetting about the mud and rain and the fact that they were in a public place, even though it was deserted, Mark slid one hand around Jack's neck and tangled his fingers into his mucky hair, his other hand curling around the other's slender waist and pulling him down as tight as he could.

Jack tangled both of his hands into Mark's raven hair and pulled Mark in deeper, tongues entwined and a bolt of pure lightning shot across every inch of Mark's skin.  His heart was in his throat and he wanted more, so much more from the man above him.

Jack lifted himself off of Mark by only a fraction of an inch and said, lips sliding against Mark's as he spoke, "You're so beautiful right now."

The heat and lightning dancing across his skin crackled at Jack's comment and he lifted his face that fraction of an inch, connecting their lips again in a sweet and passionate gesture.

Mark wasn't willing to move away from Jack to speak.  His hands fisted in Jack's shirt as he mumbled against his lips, "You're fucking gorgeous and funny and kind and I shouldn't need you already but I do.  God help me I really do."  The verbalization of the thought made his stomach churn and he pressed his face into the crook Jack's neck for comfort.

Jack ran his fingers through Mark's drenched hair and over his sagging shoulders, "How about a warm shower and a movie?  Sound good?"

Mark nodded against Jack's shoulder and Jack pulled Mark to his feet.  It was the first little bit of distance they had between them since their kiss and breaking apart was almost physically painful.  Mark had no idea feelings could be this strong this soon, but this was the first relationship he's been in in a while and it felt Earth shattering.


	7. Freak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It could be his home.
> 
> Oh God, he hoped he was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t have a lot of time to edit this, so there will be mistakes....a lot of mistakes...I’m so sorry, but I’ll clean it up a little bit later. 
> 
> So, this is basically Mark’s story, please keep in mind that this is not the angsty chapter and you should really appreciate the sweetness while it lasts....
> 
> ENJOY

So, Mark was panicking. 

As the two of them walked quietly back to his own home, Mark felt a surge of ‘ _fuck, fuck, holy shit, I’m stupid’_ climb its way into his throat.

He glanced over at Jack, who was walking quietly at his side, and his heart gave a painful thump while his stomach flipped, he felt like he was going to be sick. 

Feeling eyes on him, Jack turned to look at Mark, his piercings dripping water and the dragon poking out of his shirt stretched its maw wider in a more menacing snarl.  Mark felt the sudden urge to lean over and trace the lines of the tattoo with his tongue, but he was positive that it was most certainly not acceptable public behavior. 

He tore his gaze away from Jack’s tantalizing skin to stare at his own feet where he could hide his panic at his thoughts and the _want_ that was probably written all over his face.

Like the night of their first date, a muddy hand brushed against his own, and again, he felt a jolt of excitement race across his spine. 

The panic that settled in his shoulders bled out at the reassuring touch and Mark responded by threading his fingers through Jack’s.  

He gripped at the offered support silently until they stood in front of Mark’s door.  

Mark stared at the simple gold lettering that marked his apartment and he felt his heartbeat rattle his body. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want Jack to see his home, it really wasn’t.  It was just so very….intimate.  

He understood that most people did not view it that way, after all, what exactly was so important about living space?  But Mark had spent two years in solitude in that living space, it had become somewhat of a sanctuary.  A place he came to hide away and forget about the rest of the universe. It was the place he shed his tears and put himself back together after breaking into pieces, was he ready for Jack to see so much of him? 

He said he would try, he did, but the thought of Jack seeing his most vulnerable moments, in his sanctuary, scared the shit out of him.  

The grip on his hand loosened and suddenly the heat wrapped around his fingers was gone, Jack had dropped his hand.  The panic came surging back. 

It soothed into a slow simmer again as Mark felt the back of the same muddy fingers trail down his cheek and cup the back of his neck. 

He looked over at Jack, blatant curiosity on his face.

“Mark,” Jack begun, “I can leave you here once again if you want me to.  I won’t judge you either way, there is no pressure here. “He ran his thumb over the scruff of Mark’s jaw, smiling gently. “I would really like to talk about all of this…but if you’re not ready, I can give you some time." 

Mark knew that, he knew that Jack was not going to hurt him intentionally, and yet he stood there fearing what he knew would not likely happen.  He wanted to take a chance with Jack, he really did. 

He reached up and wrapped his fingers around Jack’s wrist.  Jack was so close to him, and he hadn’t even explained himself or his feelings yet.

A wave of gratitude and the understanding and patience Jack carried with him crashed through Mark and just like that, he had to come to a decision.

As he was obviously taking too long, he could see the choice being made in Jack’s eyes for him.  Jack would leave him be and see him again when he came to work in the morning.

He didn’t want that, he didn’t want to be all alone again. 

Never looking away from him, Mark moved his hand from Jack’s wrist to his elbow and tightened his grip.  His other hand reached inside his pocket to pull his keys out, they jingled slightly in his trembling fingers and he watched as uncertainty bloomed in Jack’s face.  

Tightening his grip once again and hoping Jack wouldn’t have bruises in the form of Mark’s panicked fingers, he turned to unlock his door and push it open, his heart pounding against his ribs as the darkness of his apartment came into view. 

He took a deep breath, calming his screaming nerves and desperately leeching strength from Jack before straightening his back and taking a step into his own home.  

He let his hand fall away from Jack and he felt the warmth of Jack’s palm on his neck slip away in return, the connection was broken.  Mark faltered, but continued on without the support of Jack, leading the other man into his small, clean kitchen.  

Jack stepped carefully behind him, inspecting Mark’s home as he went. 

Mark couldn’t help but wonder what Jack thought of the lack of photos on the walls and the absence of trinkets and memorabilia.  

His home and body were mostly void of anything decorative, he didn’t like clutter, but he could only hope to improve on that with Jack around.  After all, Jack himself was not a blank slate. 

Mark ran his tongue over his lips as the memory of Jack’s lip ring snagging against them sent a shiver down his spine.  

Realizing that he had been standing in the kitchen and vacantly gazing into space while Jack looked around, Mark shook himself and turned to his guest, “Let’s get you some clothes, you can take the first shower if you want.” 

The answer was a relieved smile.  

Marching into his bedroom, Mark shifted through his drawers until he found a t-shirt and pj bottoms that were a tad bit too small, before spinning around to give them to Jack, who had frozen in the doorway to the room.  

Jack wasn’t watching him, as he expected him to be doing, but he was gazing at the dresser to the left of Mark’s bed which held the three pieces of art that Jack had made him months before when they first met.  

Mark flushed a deep shade of crimson, “The um, the bathroom is the first door to the right.”

“You actually kept those?” Jack asked, looking directly at him and refusing to let him escape embarrassment.  

“Yeah, how could I not?” Mark asked, genuinely surprised, “They’re beautiful, Jack.  Of course I kept them.  I considered putting them up in the shop or in my office, but I wanted them where I could see them pretty often so-“ 

He snapped his mouth shut, horrified with himself.  He sounded like a teenager with his first crush.  

Jack looked up at him, eyes glinting with something Mark refused to identify, but he moved to take the clothes wordlessly, pecking him gently on the lips before turning toward the door again. 

Mark stood in his bedroom and listened to the shower stutter to life. 

He would sit on his bed and wait, but he was caked in mud and he didn’t feel like washing his sheets. 

He busied himself with finding clothes for himself and tidying up his kitchen once again while he waited for Jack. 

Mark wasn’t sure why, or if it was even weird, but he liked to keep a clean house.  His bed was made every morning, dishes washed, laundry done on Wednesdays, things normal people hated doing, but he found comfort in the simple task.  

He wasn’t sure if his mother had drilled tidiness into his head as a child, if it was leftover habits from his last relationship, or if he just couldn’t function in constant mess, but in his nervousness, he seemed to constantly fiddle and rearrange everything in his house until it satisfied his latest whim. He was rearranging the four books on his coffee table for the third time when he heard the bathroom door open and Jack stepped out in his still too large clothes. 

“Remind me to bring your clothes back to you tomorrow, I feel bad for stealing them.” 

Was it going to be a regular thing?  Was Jack going to steal his clothes and use his shower often? Because Mark could live with that, Jack looked adorable in the faded pajamas.

“Jesus, Jack.  You broke into my store, stole my clothes, and stole my customers.  I should call the police.” 

“It’s not my fault that Mrs. Wilson thinks my eyes are gorgeous.” Jack said while plopping down on the couch and flipping through the books Mark had just arranged. 

Mrs. Wilson was not wrong, but Mark rolled his eyes anyway. “I’m going to shower, don’t break anything while I’m gone.” 

Normally, someone distorting the careful order he put things into would bother him, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care as a smile tiled Jack’s face as he opened the one nearest to him and began to read.  After watching him for a moment, he began to notice that Jack liked to fiddle with his lip piercing as he read, flicking it with his tongue and rolling it with his teeth. 

That little piercing was quickly becoming Mark’s favorite distraction and obsession.  

He shook off the thought and headed to the bathroom to shower the now dry mud away. 

It surprised him to no end how comfortable Jack had immediately made himself in Mark’s home. It warmed him to a degree, but also scared the shit out of him because how was he getting so _close?_

_Freak_

It was just the one word now, playing over and over in his head like a mantra when he was alone.  

A lot of things happened to him when he was alone and unfocused.  

Being with Jack made Mark happier than he had a right to be, and he knew that Jack deserved someone better, but he was so selfish and cruel that he wanted to keep Jack all to himself. 

He thought about Jack, so comfortable in his apartment and the fear that Jack’s presence normally held at bay seized his heart as he stripped out of his clothes and stepped into the warm spray of water.  

How could he let someone so close? How could he just stand there while someone he only met months ago roam free in his home, his sanctuary?  

Jack could take everything in Mark’s home and make it his own.  If he wanted to, he could take Mark himself and make him his, and the horrifying part to Mark was that he would _let him_. 

_Freak_

He hated himself in that moment.  Hated that he could not give Jack the trust he so obviously deserved and could not give Jack the relationship he obviously wanted.  He couldn’t.  

Mark’s nails assaulted his skin, trying to scrape the feeling of uncertainty and doubt in Jack off, but to no avail.  The old wounds of previous lovers would forever be imprinted into him, he would always be marked as broken. 

Giving up, Mark stepped out of the shower, dried himself off, and slipped his clothes on.  He took a few moments to clean his glasses as they had been just as muddy as the rest of him had been, then stepped out the door to head over to Jack.

Mark found Jack sprawled all over his couch and still reading, right where he left him.  He had not done any wondering around and picking at Mark’s secrets, he had simply made himself more comfortable and continued to read. 

One foot dangled off of the arm while the other was propped up on the back, his arm was thrown over his head and the other arm was used the prop the book up on his belly, his head rested on the other arm of the small couch. 

Noticing Mark, Jack grinned and rearranged himself until he was sitting cross-legged with the open book in his lap.  He pat the seat beside him invitingly, asking for Mark to join him.  

When Mark took the seat beside him, Jack dog-eared the already creased page and sat the book back in the place Mark had originally put it and he appreciated the gesture more than he could care to admit. 

There was silence for a few moments as the two of them worked up the nerve to speak.  Mark, oddly enough, was the first to break the silence.  “Jack, I’m not stupid or anything, but I want to know officially: What are we exactly?” 

Jack took a deep breath and looked down at his fingers.  He traced the tattoo on his right arm, which was a massive tribal flower that stretched from his wrists to his elbow while he thought.  “What do you want us to be?” he asked, softly and hesitantly. 

Mark ran a hand through his hair, he was not good at talking about his emotions. “I don’t know.  I’m gonna be honest with you, Jack, I don’t exactly know that the hell I’m doing here.”  Mark sighed, annoyed with his shortcomings, “I just want you to be happy and I don’t want to feel so lonely anymore.” 

The honesty of the words that Mark had accidentally let slip from his lips rang through the air and he could feel the violent blush crawling up his neck. 

Jack’s fingers traced the tattoo more quickly, but he remained silent and Mark began to worry about the fragile state of his heart. 

“I mean, we can go back to being friends if you want.  That was great.  Friends are great.  Whatever you want man, like I’m not pushing you into anything.  Oh God, I’ve completely ruined everything haven’t I?” 

Mark sighed and tried to refrain from kicking himself.  He should really invest in a handy dandy Brain-to-Mouth filter everyone else seemed to have, he sounded so desperate and it hurt.

He felt a hand thread its fingers through his hair and he instantly relaxed, enjoying the sensation while it lasted. 

Jack sighed and when Mark turned to look at him, he was a brilliant shade of red, “Look, I don’t exactly know what I’m doing here either, I haven’t even been in very many serious relationships, so I’m just kind of making this up as I go along.  But know this,” Jack seemed to scrape up the courage from somewhere deep inside himself, “I will never intentionally hurt you.  Ever.  I actually quite like you, Mark.” 

So much heat rushed to both of their faces that Mark could swear they were going to set each other on fire.

Jack’s words quieted the noise in Mark’s brain and he felt himself push his head harder against Jack’s palm.  “I actually quite like you too.” 

The smile that smeared across Jack’s face was blinding and Mark found himself smiling back. 

Jack laughed and slid the hand in Mark’s hair down to his face, “Well, I guess we’re dating then, huh?” 

Mark smiled, feeling as if his face was going to break in half, “I guess we are.” 

It would be difficult for Mark, but he found himself wanting to see Jack happy.

His heart gave a painful lurch. 

There was something Jack needed to know first, something he hadn’t shared with anyone but the old man in years.

He had to tell Jack his story. 

When he told him this, Jack smiled gently and said, “I knew there was so much more to you, you’re such an intricate masterpiece, Mark, and I find myself wanting to know every smooth curve and rough edge.” He turned again, propping his back against the arm of the couch and faced Mark, “I’m ready, tell me your story.” 

And so as the sun set on the day of their first kiss, Mark told Jack all of his secrets.

In Mark’s senior year of high school, as the clock ticked down to the very last weeks of school, Mark met a guy in a local automotive shop while he was having the oil in his car changed.  It wasn’t a particularly important moment in his life, but the man had caught his interest in a simple, charming sort of way and they had immediately made a connection.

 They went from being friends to openly dating in less than two weeks and the quick pick up began to worry his friends and family.  Mark could understand, he had never expressed an interest in dating and the sudden turn-about looked out of balance for someone as stubborn as him.  

Suspicion rose as his grades started slipping, he lost interest in the extracurricular activities he had previously been putting his heart and soul into, he began to avoid his circle of friends, and fights broke out more often than laughter did at home.  Through it all, Robert, the mechanic, had been a perfect, kind gentleman and had treated Mark well, offering the support and comfort that ,he felt at the time, he was being robbed of. 

Mark had begun to believe that he was loved and adored. 

After he finally graduated, things began spiraling out of control in a way Mark had never wanted or expected.  

He had been young, stupid, and in a fit of anger at his father and brother when unforgivable curses spilled from his mouth, things he would regret ever even thinking curled around his tongue and it made him physically ill.  

He packed all of his valuable possessions, leaving behind things that were more important than life itself to him at one point, and moved in with Robert, who had invited him in with open arms and a warm smile. 

He had unwittingly become a prisoner and a possession. 

He was cut off from the world at that point, he had become a bit of a stay-at-home boyfriend to Robert, and he didn’t mind it at all,  His house was always impeccably clean, he cooked when it was asked of him and ,on occasion, when it was not, and he worked to meet Roberts every need, even the sexual ones.

Sex with Robert was something that Mark hated.  He didn’t hate the activity itself, but it had always been painful or forced or....unemotional in their relationship.  It was never a fun or happy experience for Mark, but he felt like he owed Robert, and he wanted to make the man happy. 

Sometimes, very rarely, he would be taken out on a real date.  Those small dates were a source of ultimate happiness and freedom for Mark later on in the relationship.

So slowly Mark had missed it, things began to change.  

Robert expected to know every footstep Mark took, wanted to know who he spoke to, when, for how long, and why, not that he had many things to report.

The aftermath of the fight with his parents left Mark with no family, no friends, and no outside sources of love.  So at the young, impressionable age of seventeen, the only contact he had with the outside world was through Robert, Television, or the internet, which he was often too busy, sore, or tired to enjoy. 

Mark began to grow quiet.  He was a ghost haunted by the living form of his boyfriend and it was at that point Mark realized that the relationship may have been very bad for him.  But he loved Robert, and Robert loved him in his own way  He would just have to wait, the cruelty was just a phase that Mark had to patiently cruise through.   

It wasn’t a phase, he never changed.  Robert expected Mark to accommodate his every whim, whatever it may have been.  

He would never get physically violet, but the mental and emotional torment he put Mark through when he didn’t get his way haunted his nightmares for years. 

Mark thought Robert was just getting kind of tired of him and he needed to try harder.

Robert loved the sex though.  Always.  Every time he got opportunity.  There were no more whispered confessions of love and smooth words of praise, only the animalistic need to take Mark, have him do whatever he wanted.  Robert wouldn’t hurt him, but he would always guilt and manipulate Mark until he got his way.

He wasn’t even a pet anymore, Mark had become an item of possession.  

Robert had even modified his body to suit his pleasure, but Mark continued to tell himself that he was loved.  He had lied to himself, and it all became clear the day Robert’s parents announced that they would be visiting.

Mark spent the day cleaning the house and making sure everything looked perfect before they came.  He was rewarded with kisses and softly spoken words of praise, but that soon melted into pain the moment his parents stepped into their home. 

Robert began introducing Mark as his roommate as opposed to his partner. 

He was heartbroken, angry, and betrayed, but pushed it aside.  Perhaps Robert wasn’t ready to come out and tell his parents the truth about him and if that was the case, Mark would not destroy the peace the family held. 

So, he sat quietly and suffered through the torment.  They were particularly fond of telling Robert about a pretty girl he had used to date and how she was still single and obviously very pretty while Robert, careless of Mark’s presence would delve into their past relationship and explore what an amazing girl she was and how he never should have left her.  

Mark, hearing enough, excused himself and made his way to the kitchen where he made himself a small meal and planned to retreat into their bedroom after he ate. 

The parents were not kind, but polite to him while they were oblivious of the situation. 

Mark heard goodbyes being sent his way and he waved from the kitchen, plastering a fake smile on his face as the duo passed him by and left their home. 

Mark could remember how angry Robert had been that he had excused himself early and he promised that Mark would pay for his idiocy when his parents returned the following week. 

It would be a once a week occurrence from that point on.

They would talk about a wide variety of subjects, most of them hurting Mark, but to make Robert happy, he would stay and suffer through it like the good boyfriend he was. 

_  
_

_“Oh, you don’t work, Mark? You’re living off of Robert?  You both could afford something better on your own if you did something with yourself.”_

_“He’s a bit slow, mother, you’ll have to excuse him, it’s hard for him to find a job.”_

_“Mark, love you really don’t pull off that outfit well.”_

_“I didn’t want to say anything when he bought it, but yeah, how did he think he could fit in those?_

_“Oh, so you like men and women?  That’s interesting.”_

_“Yeah, he’s a freak.”_

_Freak_

_Freak_

_Freak_

The rules were simple, he was not to speak for himself, he was not to engage in any kind of confrontation or questioning, and he was not to be offended by any treatment they threw at him. 

Mark’s heart ached.  He suffered through all of it for the love he wasn’t receiving.  His very heartbeat pumped for one person, and it was being bled dry.  

He finally figured out, after two years, that the way he was being treated was wrong, that it wasn’t what someone who was so in love with him would do to him. 

It all came crashing to a head two months before Mark’s twentieth birthday. 

Robert’s parents came barging in early on their way home from an event and found the two of them in a very incriminating position. 

Mark liked to associate the level of emotional paint to the equivalent of ‘having your heart cut out with a spoon.’

After the screaming match that followed, Robert holding a very naked Mark by his hair, they left, leaving him to his fate. 

_Freak_

It was the first and only time Robert had actually physically hit him.

But it wasn’t enough. 

Robert left for a few hours, leaving Mark crumpled and bruised on the floor, but came back and resumed beating Mark to a pulp. 

When his anger had finally subsided, Robert had thrown a few things in a bag for Mark, and dropped them just outside of their front door. 

Turning to Mark, he said “I don’t need my fuck toy anymore, you may go, I can find another one in a week.” with that, he crossed his arms and glared at Mark in an attempt to get him to move out of his life faster. 

Mark had no idea what to do.  He wanted to cry, to scream, to rage against the man who had stripped him of so much, all because Mark loved him.  But he didn’t have the energy.  

There was only enough energy to feel tired, empty, and get the hell out of there. 

Mark struggled to pull himself off of the floor and dress himself.  His ribs hurt, his glasses were busted, glass was sticking out of his cheek, his body was sore and aching, his shoulder felt dislocated, and he was pretty sure that he had a small concussion from being thrown against the bedside table. 

He dragged himself out of the house and into the biting rain to hear the door slam shut behind him. 

_Freak_

He used the last of his money to travel as far away as he possibly could, catching a bus to an unnamed town in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere.  He had no money, no family, no friends, and only the clothes on his back to explore a whole world with no experience.  

He stepped off of the bus to be greeted with the sight of the college looming above him.  

He spun to his left and began walking in that direction and by random chance he came to be walking down the street of a small, cheery town. 

It was just his luck that it was raining in that town too. 

With his hood up and eyes on the ground as he walked, he never noticed the woman bustling along in the opposite direction.   He slammed right into her, almost knocking her down, but straightening himself and trying to help her steady herself between mumbled apologies. 

“It’s alright, love.” She said with a charming smile. 

She raised the umbrella slightly to cover him as well, even though he was already drenched and cold. She stared at him for a few moments before speaking, “Are you hungry?” 

Mark was fucking starving, but no way was he going to trust some woman off the street.

“I-I’m fine, but thank you.” Mark said, attempting to walk away before she stopped him with a touch to his shoulder.  He flinched violently, she touched the shoulder that had been pushed into the table.

“Oh, I’m sorry!! Are you hurt? Come with me.” There was no argument in her voice and not waiting for a response, she took him gently by the sleeve of his hoodie and pulled him lightly along with her. 

Five minutes later, they were standing in front of a diner that Mark had already passed but hadn’t taken much account of.  She pushed the door open, shaking her umbrella off as she did, then confidently waltzed behind the counter and waved Mark forward. 

“Molly!” She called and one of the people in the booth far to the left of the place perked up.

“Yes?” 

The woman smiled, “There’s a stranger in town and he seems hurt, would you mind taking a look at him while we make him something to eat?” 

The entire restaurant turned to stare unashamedly at Mark and he sunk back, hood still in place because he did not need this kind of attention, dammit. 

At Molly’s nod, the woman turned back to Mark and smiled apologetically. “Don’t worry, Molly will take a look at that shoulder for you, but I do suggest making an appointment with your doctor alright?.” She turned to walk away before spinning back to Mark, “Oh! And my name is Mandy if you need me, the chef right in there with the glasses is Bob, he’s my husband, Don’t be shy about asking us for anything, we’re here to help.”

Mark nodded numbly while Molly hopped over to inspect him. 

She was a bit surprised when they sat in the booth and she found when he pulled his hood down that much more than just his shoulder was bruised and broken.  She made him promise to go the the hospital and demanded that she escort him there herself, but Mark refused, insisting that he had no way of paying for anything like that.

A voice spoke up from a nearby table, an old man with grey hair, in ratty jeans and a t-shirt smiled a crooked smile at him, “I can help out with that.” 

He got up from the table and hobbled over, waving Molly away with his cane. He practically fell into the booth and looked at Mark who had begun to scarf down the plate Mandy had sat before him. 

Mark hadn’t slept in days, he was cold, hungry, tired, and in an immense amount of pain.  He wasn’t in the mood to listen to an old man spew on and on about whatever, he wanted to find a dumpster he could sleep behind for a few hours before moving on.

The though made his heart thump painfully and his stomach almost wanted to reject his meal, but he made himself eat.  He would have to remain as healthy as he could if he was going to survive on his own. 

_Freak_

The old man watched him as he ate, then proceeded to announce that his name was Dandy Willows, and he was looking for an apprentice to his shop. 

The pieces had all fallen into place for Mark after that.  He was taken to a hospital where he was treated fairly and with care, he had been released to the care of the Old Man who sat him up to live in the workroom above his shop.  

“You pretty much know the rest of the story.” Mark said, tracing the flower pattern on Jack’s arm for what had to be the hundredth time, “That’s how I came to be where I am.” 

Mark looked up at Jack for the first time since beginning his story to find a swirl of emotions fighting for dominance in his blue eyes.  Before Mark could say anything to comfort the obviously distressed man, he leaned forward, pressing his lips firmly to Mark’s, cutting off his attempts.  

Jack didn’t move, but he let out a puff of breath against his lips and Mark wanted to melt all over the couch.  He was accepted, he was loved, but would this love make him leave what he had so painstakingly built?  He didn’t have the energy to put his jagged, broken pieces back together again.

He was so terrified.  The last relationship he was in, he had fallen into quickly, and ended in a shit storm of horror.  Would Jack treat him with love and respect?  

It crushed him to realize that the question would always be in his mind.  Always.  He would always need reassurance, he had been ruined.

The arms that wrapped around him told him that the reassurance, love, and comfort would always be there.  Mark believed those arms could wash away every shred of doubt that ever existed in his mind.  

Jack backed away, only to press his face in the juncture of Mark’s neck and shoulder, he could feel the cold bars in Jack’s eyebrow and the rough pull of the one in his lip and he involuntarily shivered.  

_Freak_

It could be his home.

Oh God, he hoped he was home. 


	8. Worth it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is really short I am so sorry

Waking up next to another human being was the scariest experience of Mark’s life.  


He had never really woken up with anyone curled around him before.  His old boyfriend had left for work long before Mark opened his eyes and he was never one to share a bed with someone even after sex.  

It was horrifying to him that he felt comfortable and relaxed enough in front of another person to do that. 

The night before, after Mark had spilled his entire heart out to him, Jack had refused to let him go. It was an endearing gesture, but also somewhat of an alarming one as he did not have good experiences with people who held him too close. 

But he wanted to try, as he promised himself.  He wanted to give Jack a chance to prove himself a good person, wanted to give him a chance to actually love Mark.

Jack was not silent while he held Mark.  He whispered small, hushed comforts into Mark’s ear as well as praise and flattery. He called him everything from a ‘gorgeous human being’ to ‘something so pure and sweet that they had to be an angel’ and it surprised Mark how much the words helped mend his heart just a tiny bit. 

The words did not feel overused or hollow from Jack’s lips.  They felt sincere and warm and Mark could have listened to him spew Irish accented comfort for hours, but his mind argued everything Jack presented. 

Mark was not an angel. His body was ripped and scarred in places, it was molded to fit a man that wasn’t Jack, and it had been used to relieve so much stress and frustration.  He wasn’t even exactly sure if his own body belonged to him, so what right did he have to give such a broken shell to someone else? 

But Jack was convinced that he was a good person, that he was special and important.  Wanted. 

He didn’t want to argue with him, but Jack’s kindness would lead to too much trust and he could accidentally break Mark. 

His mumbling slowly died off and he fell asleep eventually. 

Mark sat still, letting Jack rest on him as he looked him over. 

His speckled hair tickled his chin and cheek, his eyebrow piercings scratched at the skin of his collar bone, his breath ghosted across Mark’s chest, his light snores were adorable, and the way Jack twitched slightly in his sleep made him giggle.  He reached up, very hesitantly, to trace along the dragon on Jack’s neck, letting his fingers trail over the intricate scales and still vibrant ink.  

Mark cupped his neck eventually, allowing his palm to rest over the eyes of the dragon as he rested back against the arm of the couch.  He pulled the sleeping Jack over him, allowing him to rest on his chest while he got comfortable.  He could read or watch something while Jack rested. 

He thought he would never get to sleep, he thought that another person touching him at all would keep him awake and fidgeting until the morning light.  Surprisingly, as he pressed the hand that wasn’t holding the dragon against the small of Jack’s back, he began to feel groggy. 

Sleep terrified him. He didn’t want to sleep.  He was vulnerable.  Another human was literally laying sprawled across him and cuddling into him, which he already wasn’t as happy as he should be about, but he was beginning to drift off with said human against him and he simply could not keep his eyes open for very much longer. 

He did not have a problem with Jack touching him, but he hadn’t cuddled anyone in a very long time and the action felt extremely foreign to him. 

He was contemplating how long it had actually been since he had been held or held anyone himself when his heavy eyelids drifted shut and he was dragged into the world of sleep with Jack. 

The fear set in completely when he woke up crushed between Jack’s chest and the back of the couch.  They had rearranged themselves somehow and Mark now lay with his nose pressed into Jack’s neck and his hands tangled into the back of his shirt.  His shirt.  The one Mark let him wear. 

His breath caught in his throat.  Jack was close.  Too close too close _too close_.  His hands were literally lost in Mark’s mop of hair. Too close.  Their legs were entangled.  Too close.  Mark could feel his breath against his shoulder.   _Too close._

He was going to be sick. 

He couldn’t breathe all of a sudden.  Too close. 

He didn’t want to wake Jack up and risk him being angry, but Mark was flying into a serious panic and he needed to go.  He needed to leave right in that moment or he was going to lose his mind. 

Mark pulled as far away as he could in the limited space and took a deep gasp of air.  He had let someone sleep with him, had let them see him at his most vulnerable and it was going to happen again.  They were going to rip him to shreds. 

No.  It was only Jack.  Jack he trusted.  Jack smiled and treated him like he was important.  Jack understood him and gave him the space and respect that he needed. Jack did not hide things and was completely open with him.  Jack was not violent.  Jack was too close. 

He took another deep breath, but his body betrayed him.  He began to tremble almost violently and tears sprung to his eyes. 

He held his breath. He could do this.  Jack wasn’t going to hurt him.  Jack was kind and loving.  Jack was too fucking close. 

His breath was leaving him, his lungs were squeezing his heart to the point of pain and he was making small, panicked noises in addition to his quickening of breath and trembling. 

Mark watched through the increasing panic and blurred tears as Jack’s eyebrows scrunched together and he shifted.  He held his breath again, afraid to make noises.  He didn’t want to wake Jack.  He was strong, he had to try. 

His body had had enough of the restrictions and forced a breathless sob from his mouth.  He knew that he had awoken Jack with it, it was far too loud, and he had failed. 

Jack sucked in a breath through his nose and the fingers in Mark’s hair wiggled before tightening involuntarily.  

He flinched.  Muscle memory of horrible things weren’t exactly fun. 

The hand in his hair released him and pulled away, disappointing him and relieving him at the same time.  He didn’t want to fear Jack.  He didn’t, but he was too close. 

Mark could only make out two pale blue orbs through his blurred vision as Jack opened his eyes. Mark was heartbroken that the first memory they had of waking up together – and quite possibly the last if everything went terribly – was Mark in tears. 

Jack shot into an upright position immediately, pulling Mark with him. 

“Oh my God are you okay? Of course you’re not okay, I’m so fucking stupid.  What happened?  Can I help?” 

He had his hands cupped at Mark’s cheeks, which would have been comforting in any other moment, but he just couldn’t handle the touch, so he pushed them off. 

Jack didn’t look offended, not that Mark could see much through the tears and gasping breaths, he simply retracted his hands and put them in his lap. 

“Mark, sweets, I know you’re really upset, but can you hear me clearly right now?” he asked, his words jumbling themselves before straightening out in Mark’s brain. 

His chest was heaving, he couldn’t breathe, but he nodded to show that he could hear Jack. 

“That’s great!  You’re doing so well.  Now, I know I’m asking a lot of you and I’m sorry, but do you think you could match my breathing?” 

Mark shook his head violently. 

“Alright.  May I please touch you? May I please place your right hand on my chest so you can feel me breathe? Just in case you would like to try?” 

After hesitating, he nodded. Jack’s words and calm voice were already beginning to calm him slightly, his trembling had lessened. 

True to his word, Jack only lifted the hand that Mark held out to him to his chest, placing the palm flat and taking a breath, allowing Mark to feel the rhythm of his chest. 

“Mark, I know this is hard, but do you take medicine for this?  Do you see a doctor?” 

He shook his head, he never though it was bad enough to go to the hospital before.  He suddenly realized that what was happening wasn’t normal and what he was doing wasn’t what people do.  It was weird, abnormal, Jack was going to hate him.  He would be alone again. 

His breathing kicked up a notch. 

“Hey, hey.  That’s alright.  Perhaps we can talk about that later okay?  I just wanted to know if there was something I could get you to help. Do you want me to just sit here with you?” 

Mark gripped at the front of Jack’s shirt.  He couldn’t say it, he just couldn’t, but he wasn’t going to let go.  Jack was helping.  Jack wanted to help.  He wanted to stay with him.  The thought was comfort and he brought his other hand up to grip onto Jack’s twisted shirt as well. 

He had never been so scared. His moments… his… attacks were always rough but never bad enough to make him feel like he did.  He wanted it to stop.  In an almost childish plea, he asked Jack for help.

“Make *hard gasp* it go *sob* away!” He leaned forward, pulling Jack to him, and placed his mouth against Jack’s shoulder.  He couldn’t handle the disgusting noises he was making.  He wanted them to stop.   

“May I touch you?” Jack asked, trying to respect his boundaries. 

“Please?” the work came out strangled and loud, embarrassing Mark and causing him to push his mouth tighter against Jack’s shoulder and screw his eyes shut. 

They sat there for the better part of an hour with one of Jack’s hands playing with the hair at the back of his neck and the other tracing intricate patterns on Mark’s back. 

When he could finally almost match Jack’s breaths, he lifted up slightly, still clutching at the man before him, and took a chance.  He looked up into his eyes.

Jack smiled gently at him, there was no disgust or hatred to be seen.  “You’re still hiccuping.  Do you feel a bit better?” 

Mark still felt like utter shit, but he couldn’t deny that an almost numb feeling had washed over him. He hated the numbness that followed, he almost wished the panic would return.  

“You need something to help calm yourself.”  Jack announced, interrupting his thoughts.  “You like tracing my tattoos, right?  Would you like to do that?” 

Mark blinked.  He hadn’t been aware that he traced them that much, but he supposed that since he had the opportunity, he had been touching the ink that decorated Jack’s skin quite a bit. 

He looked down at the arm that Jack was holding out.  It was the one with the intricate flower pattern he had been running his fingers across the day before. 

Refusing to think much on the subject, he reached out and began to trace the black lines.  He followed them up and down Jack’s arm, his fingertips tickling the skin slightly and causing the hair there to raise to attention. 

He rested against Jack as he played, completely giving over to him in trust.  He had seen him at his worst, he had gotten him through one of his attacks, and he still sat with him.  He even let him play with the impressive art on his arm.  He didn’t know what to make of anything yet, his brain was still slightly scrambled, but he knew that he could trust the man taking care of him for now. 

He was practically in Jack’s lap, far too much into his personal space for it to be comfortable. When he lifted his head to move away, Jack twitched and pulled him back.  “Oh no no.”  Jack reprimanded gently.  “None of that.  Just rest, okay?  Rest and we can talk when you’re not tired anymore.” 

Was he crazy or did Jack have experience dealing with people like Mark? 

He slumped back down, burying himself into his own soft clothes.  He felt Jack shift, trying to make himself and Mark more comfortable. 

After a few more moments, when he was finally completely calm, Jack asked him, “Do you want to be alone?”

Mark was startled. Did Jack want to leave him? 

No.  That wasn’t the case or he would not continue to hold Mark. 

“Not- not really.” Mark replied, slightly confused. “On one hand I do because I have a few things to work out in my head, but on the other,” he rested all of his weight on Jack, “You’re comfy and I don’t want you to leave.” 

Jack chuckled quietly, content with the answer, after a while, he began to trace patterns on Mark’s back again. 

“We’re moving a bit fast, huh?” Jack asked gently, clearly not trying to scare him. 

“Yeah.” Was Mark’s only answer.  He believed that life moved at an impossible pace and sometimes you had to scramble to latch onto what may be important, even if it was the most terrifying and stupid thing he could ever have done. 

Maybe that was why he had gotten so hurt. 

“That feel really nice,” He said, referring to Jack doodling on his back with his fingertips, “I kind of wish tattoos felt like that.”  He was not paying attention to his words.

“Oh really?” Jack asked, grinning. “And how would you know what a tattoo felt like?” 

“I don’t.” Mark replied. “But I know what a needle in the skin feels like.” 

Jack blinked, obviously taking the words the wrong way. 

“I wasn’t on any drugs, if that’s what you think.” Mark was quick to fix his mistake.  “I meant piercings.” 

Jack looked at him, his face scrunched up in curiosity and disbelief.

“You have piercings?” 

Mark nodded, blushing, and watched as Jack’s eyes darted all over him. 

“You’re lying.” Jack accused, squinting. 

“Nope.” 

“I don’t see any piercings.” 

“Nope.” 

“…” 

“…”

“Mark?” 

“Hm” 

“What exactly is pierced?” 

A grin spread across Mark’s face. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

“That’s why I’m asking, yeah.”

Mark laughed softly and Jack’s shoulders seemed to relax, as if he was relieved to hear the sound.   

“I think you’re lying.” Jack said, relaxing back into the couch, carrying a nearly limp Mark with him. 

“You can ask Bob.  I am not lying.” 

“Wait.  Bob?  As in from the diner?  Does he actually know everyone in town?”  

“Of course!” Mark answered, shifting himself and smiling up at Jack. 

Jack was silent for a few moments, but then he busted out with a rather hard to answer question. “Mark, what are we?” 

Mark tensed a bit. “I-I don’t know.” He sighed.  “I was going to ask you.” 

Jack rubbed at Mark’s back again, trying to calm him “We could… we could date.  Ya know.  If you wanted to.  No pressure or anything, um…” He trailed off, obviously not sure how to continue. 

Mark could do this. He could.  He could date Jack and not panic at every moment.  Jack was safe.

Blushing furiously, he leaned up and placed a small kiss on Jack’s jaw. “I’d like that.” His voice shook slightly, but he said the words with more confidence than what he felt. He wanted to trust Jack, and he would be able to eventually.  “I just warn you that I have trust issues.” 

Jack looked down at Mark in what he believed to be happiness and awe. “I’m alright with that.  I’m a bit of an idiot, just to warn you.” 

Mark brought his face up to Jack’s and whispered the words “My idiot, now” against his lips.  

“May I kiss you?”  He asked, his eyes already drifting closed. A jolt of electricity spiked through him as Jack’s lip ring caught against his lips as he whispered a quiet “Please.” 

Perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea to date Jack.  Perhaps it would be terrible and they wouldn’t go well together at all and it would be awkward and he would lose his friendship and his whole world and only small window of trust would be slammed closed.  

But as Jack kissed him back, he couldn’t bring himself to care too much.  All the doubt that welled up in his chest and the pain that rattled his bones melted away with the touch of soft lips and caring hands.  He was happier than he had been in a while and he knew he was moving a bit fast, but he wanted it.  He wanted Jack.  

They pulled apart, only for Mark to cup Jack’s jaw again and rest their foreheads together. 

“Mark, Darlin’,” Jack’s voice shook him to his very core and the sound of the man calling him a pet name sent a shudder through him. “We should actually get ready for work.” 

Mark groaned “Don’t wanna. He plopped his head onto Jack’s shoulder. “M’comfy.” 

“Yeah, me too.  Come on, get up.  We have to put food on the table.” Mark sighed but complied, sliding off of his boyfriend – He did a mental happy dance but also cringed at the title- and standing on his own. 

Jack stood, and to his disappointment, walked over to the front door. 

“Where are you going?” Mark immediately seized up when Jack looked at him and raised an eyebrow. Fuck, he was being too clingy.  He only had the new relationship for about five minutes and he was already fucking it up.  He was such an idiot.  Jack could go where he wanted, he didn’t have to explain himself- 

“I’m going to go home and get some clothes that fit.”  He laughed, “I’ll be at Dandy’s in just a little bit.”

He walked back over to Mark and kissed him adorably on the nose. “I’ll see you soon, I’m not going to run off, I promise.”  And with a last kiss on Mark’s forehead, he was off. 

The second Jack walked out the door, throwing a wink over his shoulder at Mark, the old thoughts crept back into his brain. 

_Freak._

A new voice joined the old man in fighting for once, and Mark was beyond startled.  He had to sit back down on the couch for a moment. 

_You are beloved, my son_

_I’m not going to run off, I promise._

But what if he did? What if he was lying to Mark and he was never going to see the gray haired Irishman again?  What if he jumped in too soon?  What if he was going to rip him to pieces? He couldn’t handle that again. 

He was telling the truth when he told Jack the day before between the mud, rain, lip rings, and kisses that he needed him.  God help him he really did need him and they had only begun.  

If Jack were to break his heart, he couldn’t survive it.  Was the chance of one relationship working out really worth giving up what was left of his heart?  Was it worth fighting through every torment he had come to cope with in his life? Was it all worth everything he would give up? 

Was Jack worth it? 

Yes.


	9. Note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just explaining some things.

Hi guys!! I know, it's been a while since I updated this, but I have a reason!!

I have decided to sit down and write the rest of the chapters to this fic before I post again, then I will post them all at the same time (so prepare yourselves) 

I still have a bit left of the story to finish and then there's editing, so don't get too excited, but I WILL finish this. 

Anyway. Yeah, I just wanted to update you!! I'll see you when I post any the next chapter!! 


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